Right now, I feel loopy. Lethargic. I could take a nap for hours at this point. I feel hot. Groggy. Hungry.
I didn't go through the insane jitters that hit yesterday. That felt like 3 shots of strong espresso coursing through my blood. I had a meeting this morning and functioned through it, but don't know that I could do that right now. A friend who'd tried this particular drug said it made her too tired—if this part doesn't go away this won't work for me either.
It's an unfolding journey.
The kind I hate most.
To not know how I'll feel? Torture. I'm feeling more like myself in some ways but am aware enough to know what's not quite right. I've always been comfortable in my anxiety, or at least have found comfort in the stress, the gritted teeth, the mania. I'm afraid I'll lose my creative and drive to placidity. At the moment I can't imagine starting a new project or even thinking of a new project.
All I want to do is sleep.
But, I suppose, after the past months of endless stress, maybe my mind and body are craving a break, before things really break down.