Some romances are destined to be short-lived. After less than two weeks on Celexa, I've decided to return to Lexapro. I could compensate for the price increase ($13 per month for Celexa, nearly $100 per month for Lexapro) by going to therapy biweekly rather than weekly, and as my money-management advisor, Moorea, wisely noted the other day, mental and physical health are things you can't put a price tag on, because everything else hinges on them. (Similarly, in tonight's Nextbook salon on Jews and the body, we discussed the idea that our corporeal selves are on loan to us from God, so we're obligated to treat them well; I think sticking with the medication that works absolutely qualifies.)
Anyway, I look forward to returning to Lexapro, since even my brief time off it has been marked by trouble concentrating and, amazingly, problems articulating my thoughts -- a situation I rarely find myself in. (Even if my thoughts are ridiculous, I can almost always spit them out coherently.) Here's hoping I don't have too much longer to wait until the contentment I've enjoyed since Thanksgiving comes back to me.
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