Today was day 10 of s l o w l y weaning me off Cymbalta ...

... the act of which gave me seizure-like blackout thingies when we did it rapidly last spring. I should be completely Cymbalta- (and seizure-like-blackout-thingie-) free by the beginning of October, at which time we start weaning me off of Abilify. Because I'm on five psychotropics right now, and while saying “psychotropics" is fun and all, five (plus my thyroid medication) is a bit much.

Every time we change my meds (I mean psychotropics!) I get my hopes up that THIS TIME will be the magic bullet and I'll finally stop sleeping through life/binge-buying shit I don't need/growing an enormous gut/hearing noises in the other room/deciding nobody likes me/shaking like a hoochie mama in a bathtub with a toaster. And every time, my symptoms seem to shift around a bit but never totally go away. So now instead of adjusting/introducing meds, we're taking them away entirely. And s l o w l y. But like everything related to psychotropics (there's that word again!), results (or complications) take time. And we have to map out when those results (or complications) might manifest themselves so they won't interfere with things like vacations, projects at work, family events, theater commitments and Disney half marathons. 

Speaking of which, the Disney half marathon I'm running is the first weekend in November, at which time who the heck knows where my meds (and my brain) will be. But once again, I choose to think that by then I'll be clear-headed and focused and energized and bedecked in my red running shorts with huge yellow buttons on the front and—aside from the aforementioned shorts—perfectly normal. Just like all of you magically wonderfully perfectly normal people. (You'd tell me if you weren't normal, right?)