Argh.

I am losing my mind.

Literally; I'm going in to withdrawal from my antidepressant drug, venlafaxine. It's my own stupid fault, of course - I've been so busy with work and sketching up designs for people and studying about different animals that I forgot to pick up my prescription from the quack on Friday.

And with this being a bank holiday weekend, the surgery is shut until tomorrow morning.

Nope, can't get access for anything.

So I had to take a reduced dose just to keep me going to last night. Tonight I have none. Slay is going to pick it up for me in the morning, but the next eight to ten hours are going to be...unpleasant...at best.

I have forgotten to take a dose before, so I know what's coming. The sweats and shivers. Anxiety. Nausea. Confusion. Dizziness. Disorientation. Fear. Pain. Helplessness.

I can still walk to the kitchen, but I'll be on hands and knees by the morning.

And it gets worse. I've had a migraine since Sunday, and I'm on the rag. Good eh?

Oh well. Maybe I can sleep through it. And then Slay will bring me my pills and I'll scrabble them down like some sort of fucking junkie and I'll feel better. I've been on this shit for about eight years now, and man would I love to get off it. But not now.

Now, I have cold turkey to be getting on with.