Seroquel: Victorian fainting couch energy

My sparkly baby pink almond acrylic claws are officially beginning to annoy me. They’re disrupting how I type on my iPhone—an unforgivable crime for a writer to put up with! So, they’ve sadly got to go. I have to be somewhat reasonable with the whole beauty is pain thing. I love the sex appeal of long acrylics from time to time, but Jesus... after a couple weeks, the sensory overload kicks in and I have to tap out. Usually I go feral, removing them myself in a clusterfuck of swearing, acetone and nail bed destruction. But this time? I’ve been sensible. Actually booking myself an appointment to have them removed, professionally. Growth?

I’m just shy of two weeks on Seroquel, and honestly? I’m feeling weak. It’s giving depression-fatigue hybrid, not my first rodeo—but still, far from ideal. I’m ready to collapse after applying mascara. Very Victorian fainting couch chic of me.

I’ve allowed myself to crunch a klonopin in apprehension of my lunch out this afternoon, —which I really want to enjoy. Despite the fact that klonopin is a benzo, I find it uplifts my mood and energy levels much like you’d expect an upper too. Sheer anxiety relief is enough to invigorate me!

This week, I’ve been having the earliest nights imaginable for a hot blonde in her 20’s. Seroquel at 9pm, asleep by 10pm. Awake before 8am. I’ve come to realise sleeping in till midday is an awful way to live. Sure, I was raving about it back in January, and perhaps it has its place in the cold, dark winter. But during the English summer time, where sunshine is already sparse, it doesn’t make sense to sleep through the best part of the day. There is also something psychologically rewarding about waking up early and starting the day in the am. Who am I? I used to glorify sleeping till midday…

Only two more days until my meds review—and I can finally exhale. The anticipation has been draining. Truly bananas. My anxiety about it has hijacked the entire surface area of brain this week. Understandably as result, I’ve been predictably unproductive. But honestly? Of course I have. Last week was the most magical, dreamy holiday a girl like me could hope for. It only makes sense that the week after would be kind of tragic. And of course the universe would schedule a benzo script review right when I’m at my most emotionally fragile. Classic NHS BS.

Next week is Lana and Sabrina (!!) and I just pray I’m not feeling weak and pathetic when the concerts hit. There’s only so much a sober girl can do to guarantee a perfect show. I’m pulling all the strings I can. I’ve promised myself I’ll finish this strip of Seroquel before I make any final decisions about staying on it. Part of me is desperate to stop now so I can feel good for the concerts (priorities?) But the more sensible part knows I need to give it (at least) four full weeks before deciding its fate.

I remember when I briefly took it last year, it made me ravenous. That hunger has just started creeping in again—though it might be totally self-induced. Knowing this med is infamous for weight gain, I’m watching what I eat more closely than ever. So maybe my cravings are just the natural backlash of eating less? Honestly, half the side effects I experience feel completely psychosomatic.

Next week, I’ll be posting another new blog entry about the Cat Marnell retreat! Chronicling the absolutely stunning beaches we visited—especially the iconic Dr. Sues beach (yes, really). The local Greek early-twenty-something boys could not stop gawking—especially at Camille and I, in our almost-identical, baby pink, lesbian fantasy, string bikinis. We felt like absolute cougars on the rocks! It was hilarious. They were obsessed.

Off the back of that dreamy trip and all the gorgeous ladies I befriended, I’ve already booked a trip to LA to see one of my favorites. I’m so excited I could burst. We’ve already got a Day trip to Calabasas planned —Kardashian country— obviously. And a visit to Trashy Lingerie—yes, that one from The Girls Next Door and The Anna Nicole Smith Show. Apparently, there’s been some recent wild drama involving the owners son and a murder attempt? Unhinged. I love LA!

…I have a feeling this trip is going to be even more magical than—even I—could predict!