There is a definite numbness that has swept over since starting the Quetiapine, which has gradually deteriorated from a slight hazy sensation to the feeling that I am becoming disconnected with the rest of the world. The day is spent acting by default as I do nothing more than drift from one meaningless task to the next, all purpose behind them lost to an abyss of insignificance. Other symptoms of depression have been close to follow. In particular I’ve become irritable and short-tempered, making it more and more difficult to socialise with those around me without lashing out in a fit of frustration. I certainly don’t envy those who get caught up in the aggression.
Exhaustion has become an overwhelming presence of each day, but I’m attempting to fight against it. I find it’s helping to build exercise into the foundations of my daily routine, the adrenaline allowing for a momentary window of relief in the suffocating enervation. Yet despite spending the day feeling tired, attempting to sleep without disruption has become quite the challenge. At night I am woken by a tightness in my legs which then spreads to my chest and arms, not in a painful pursuit, but one that is rather uncomfortable and more than enough to keep me from the pleasant virtue of slumber. In the mornings I have been awoken by something quite different. It began yesterday morning, when I usually get to enjoy the peace and quiet of an empty house, but instead I was stirred by the sound of footsteps leading up the stairs and into the bathroom. In my sleep deprived state I thought nothing of it, and as the taps were turned on, the soothing sound of running water quickly sent me back to sleep. It wasn’t long, however, before I was disturbed again by the same sound, this time the footsteps leading across the hallway and into my bedroom. As I lay there, eyes still shut, I listened until the steps could be no more than a metre from my pillow before curiosity got the better of me and I turned over to see who it could possibly be. No one. I was alone, both in my room and in the house. The noise I had been so convinced was real was nothing more than a deceitful, yet utterly fictitious, hallucination.
The combination of side-effects is taking its toll, even on more trivial matters such as my ability to write articulate and coherent sentences; this post taking far longer and omitting a significant amount more than it should, however I maintain a positive attitude. If this is the lengths of what must be endured to get my life back on track then I consider myself a fortunate individual, but unfortunately one that may be of rather unbearable company for a little while longer.