One? Sweaty wouldn't seem like such a big deal, when the very continuation of existence seems a challenge. Oddly tho, right immediately once that one's out of the way, sweatiness takes priority. Who knew?

Also? True or no, I'm blaming the extra twenty pounds on the meds as well. I never thought I was manic at all, and still don't really, but I do think there's a certain degree of -- evening out? -- that took place, which made me ultimately more mellow than anything else. That is, not exactly likely to get "pumped up." Besides which, I think my eating habits and that all changed due to what the therapists offered as most healthy ... hm. Well, in the end realistically, I just gotta say I think it's odd that it somehow continued to escaped my attention until just a couple of days after being med-free, when suddenly I look in the mirror and go, "Holy Fuck!"

Also? And really the whole reason for this entry?

They will tell you that mixing booze with your psycho-medications is bad, bad, bad. Well, allow me to offer a bit on that:

Years alive? 31 plus. Years drinking? Approximately 12. Years on medication? 1.5. Bones broken? 2.

Hm. As it happens, the only commonalities I see of the two bones broken (within one year no less!) are these: I was alive. I was drunk. I was taking meds.