I've been on a mild anti-depressant for about a month now. My nutritionist believes the whole theory behind cortisol and anxiety making it difficult to loose middle of the body fat. She and I agreed that reducing anxiety in my life would be a good thing on many different levels.
And it has. I am happier. The chemicals have taken the edge of anxiety producing situations. I have less discomfort related to being out of the house, taking the bus to the mall and so on. It's been nice. And I've started loosing weight again. All the weight I have to loose is between my neck and knees. I have here to for unknown muscle definition in my arms and legs, and carry little extra weight in my face and neck. (Loose skin, yes, fat, no.)
That would spell success on a variety of levels.
Something else has happened that I'd not bargained for.
Yesterday, my friend, A, and I were sitting next to each other in Starbucks as we generally do on Monday after the kids are dropped off and school, knitting socks, drinking the nectar of the gods, and catching up on the weekend. A little old lady walked over to my friend and said, "Oh you're making socks. From the toe up!" A said, Yes," showed her the sock as I bent over and dug out my most recently finished pair and held them out for examination, too.
It was like a scene out of a ghost movie. I was the ghost. This little old knitter chatted with A about her sock and totally ignored me, my outstretched hand with brightly striped socks, like, well, I was invisible.
No, I don't think the antidepressants made me invisible. And yes, this has happened before. What's different is this time I felt it. Previously, I expected to be treated this way, either ignored or bullied. It was normal for me. And I just blew it off. Welcome to my world. Yesterday, however, now that my little happy pills secrete wonderful chemicals in my brain, I felt it. It hurt. As I sat knitting last night, I cried because that little old knitter lady deliberately ignored me. She went out of her way to speak to A, no more than two feet away from me, and just as precisely chose to pretend I didn't exist. And I felt it.
Which makes me think about whether I want to continue with these magic pills.
On a happier note, there is knitting, too!
These are a compilation of a couple of patterns. The construction comes from Cat Bordhi's Houdini Socks. The stitch pattern is from Joansie's standby, Blueberry Waffle Socks. The yarn is hand dyed. I wondered what would happen if one dyed half a hank one color and half another. Not much. It's okay, and might be a big more exciting if the colors weren't so closely related..... They are still pretty, just nothing to write home to mom about.