Coming down from over two year's dependence on anti-depressants, I feel fine — better than fine, in fact. I was worried that I experience a sort of "dam-burst" after being on anti-depressants for so long, but I actually feel a strange serenity, as well as an improved command of my faculties.
I feel like I'm in the final chapter of a dark volume of my life story. I feared and disapproved of anti-depressants from the get-go; I'd read too many accounts of unshakable mental torpor ever to want to risk my own mind for such a fool's paradise. I thought it wiser to co-exist with my anxieties and cycles of depression, and after this unpleasant detour through the neurochemical slough I've discovered I was right all along.
If the only way I could have saved my marriage was by having chosen to go on anti-depressants years before the fatal crisis of my separation, as my ex-wife claimed, then perhaps my marriage wasn't worth saving.
Maybe now I'll find what Zen masters call my "original face."
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