I never thought I'd be someone who was taking anti-depressants, but here I am. I'm actually starting to feel better. I get up in the morning and have energy to do what I do and even feel excited about it. For awhile there I thought I'd never feel that way again. I didn't tell anyone this, because I didn't want them to freak out, but it got so bad I was actually thinking about killing myself. I mean I wasn't about to do it or anything, but I started believing everyone would be better off without me, and I just couldn't stand to be in that much pain forever. If it had gone on long enough, I think I would have decided I just couldn't take it anymore. I even looked up on the internet how to do it. It was comforting to know I had an escape plan if I needed it.
Ricky's been amazing through all this. I've been a total irritable bitch when I had enough energy to be one, and just a lifeless lump when I didn't. I don't know how he put up with it--he must really love me. I didn't even want to have sex for weeks and weeks, and he didn't push me. Now I'm interested again, and he's like it's Christmas morning all the time. The problem is that I can't come anymore. It must be the Prozac, unless I'm just damaged or something. It's so frustrating I can hardly stand it, because I get just as turned on and then can't get that release. I don't want to go back to being dysfunctional, but I can't live forever not being able to orgasm either!