My life was a mess. I was partially estranged from my wife, who I loved with all my heart. Depression is a bitch that warps people on all sides. I was not myself. I was a black and mean version of myself, choosing to remain silent more than I spoke the vitriol boiling in my mind.

I took my first dose of prozac and didn’t notice much. A little of buzzy discomfort, like too much coffee. The second day and second dose set me ablaze. I pulled out of the flight mode into the fight mode. I needed to deal with something. There was a creepy guy at our local coffee hangout, Sweetish Hill (now gone), who was making public overtures to my wife. Yes, things were weird between us. Her abusive past was erupting in rage attacks, and violence. Sure, she was 98 pounds soaking wet, but when a woman is trying to hit you, and you can’t hit back, it’s terrifying. I took to putting a locked door between us, while she yelled and beat on the door.

So, this fellow was creepy, unclean, rode a bike everywhere and didn’t seem to have very good hygiene or laundry habits. He was obsessed with my wife. They chatted sometimes at the coffee shop. No big deal. Then he left her a note. He acknowledged that she was married, but that he would be interested in being her passionate love slave, or something like that. The note was a week or so before I began taking Prozac. My wife showed it to me. He wasn’t her type. In fact, she was a little afraid of the guy zooming around on his beat up ten-speed bike.

Day two of my initial prozac journey and I flipped from a depressed bear into an angry monkey. I would not say I had good control over my monkey mind, but I welcomed the burst of energy and aggression. That same day, I drove to the guys house. Knocked on the door and confronted him.

I would never have done this in an unaltered state. Yes, early prozac moments can be wild, energectic, and misguided. I think my burst was fine. It felt great driving away from his stunned face. He apologized and agreed to drop his courtship of my wife.

Our marriage was on it’s final trajectory. I was out. She was abusive. Sex had become a nightmare that I avoided. So, it was time to wrap it up and move on, except she didn’t want to. She became increasingly paranoid. As if she was cheating on me and projecting that I was cheating with every new woman that worked at the advertising agency. Occasionally she would aggressively sniff my crotch when I got home from work. Nothing doing. I was faithful and hurt. My first two attempts at getting a divorce were unsuccessful due to my own ambivalence and fear.

The agency prozac provided motivated me to seek counseling for myself. I learned that I did not have to accept being yelled at. I learned that loving myself and protecting myself from her violence was more important than the small comfort I got from “being married.” I was ready to be alone again. Big time.

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