This is not a misery memoir, this is an attempt to understand myself and my hormones. Not wanting to log an account of a despairing spiral back down to depression I refrained from writing over the last few weeks as the Amitriptyline which had at first seemed an saviour to my sleep problems produced horrific dreams, scenes and flashes that led me to a reluctancy to relax.
The images came easily and frequently. My heart beat fast and loud. I moved inward, replaying, reliving, terrified.
A side effect of the medication. Two weeks go by. Dreams are thoughts, thoughts become things.
I hold on, I hold fast. I get through.