Of Citalopram and Strippers   Leave a comment

This blog, like one I had before it sometime ago, is an experiment in honesty.  I’ve often heard people say “you have to be honest with yourself before you can be honest with other people,” but  I have found the reverse to be true.  By being honest with other people, I learn to be honest with myself. Yet, I blog under my real name on purpose, because any comment you see of mine on this here interweb is truly mine.  Its not some anonymous construct, it’s the real israelkwalker.  That’s part of being honest too, because it requires me to not do or say things that israelkwalker would not really do or say.  My real life boundaries are my internet boundaries.  I have to ask myself “Is this something I would say in a speech class?” each time I write a blog.

So I want to talk about two things today: Celexa and strippers.

I started taking Citalopram last week.  My god.  I’m going to be OK.  I didn’t know I could be OK.  I’m thinking about a time when my wife never has to deal with me suicidal again, and it’s  mind blowing.  Citalopram has a lot side effects, which can be quite disruptive for people.  I know this. I accept this.  Perhaps in 6 months, my doc and I will talk about this.  But Citalopram is making me think hurting myself is an awful idea.  Awful is interesting.  My life has been divided into feeling two ways about suicide: that it was a good idea, or an idea that might be a good idea later.  I’ve never thought it was “awful”.  That’s worth a lot of side effects.

About strippers.  I know one.  Not well. Not professionally.  But it’s strange to me they are just people.  And its strange to me that its strange to me. Why can I watch a movie like “Die Hard” and know thats not how real cops are, or “24” and know that not how real terrorist investigations go, but it is a surprise to me that strippers are just people, just like everyone else?  Just like me.

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Posted January 30, 2012 by israelkwalker in Depression, Sexuality, Uncategorized

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