Or is it 7?
It might actually be less, if I factor in the symptoms of inadvertent Cymbalta withdrawal for the last few days — a fall into the hellish chasm of anger and personality change that results when I run out of the pills before the next shipment arrives. The alteration is Hyde-like, if Mr.Hyde were equally prone to weeping.
I’m feeling more like Jekyll today, my inner-beast sedated with Cymbalta, and a Vyvance chaser.
(though that’s not precisely true — I don’t have an inner-beast, independent of Cymbalta. A more accurate title would be Dr. Cymbaltataker and Mr. Cymbaltaless. Mr. Hyde appeared because of a drug. My evil twin appears without it.)
