Estimated reading time: 4 minutes
A short time between posts. Withdrawal seems to move quickly directly after I drop a whole capsule and then ease up. Unfortunately, every time I drop the dose, new symptoms emerge and detoxing is an absolutely new beast.
When you read what I say, you need to remember that I have done this before. So it is not that unknown type of scary. Plus, I genuinely believe, and so do my doctors, that I am not depressed anymore. Anxious and Neurotic – hell yeah. But depressed – no. So when I started this withdrawal adventure, I was maybe less worried than some people about what I would do if my depression resurfaced. Plus, I have a fantastic team of support people who would put me straight back on the meds if they thought I needed it.
Physically at the moment:
- Tired. Really fucking tired.
- Nauseous: Really fucking sick. Eating salty food helps, but it doesn’t stay down.
- Hungry: Like I am pregnant with triplets for 10 minutes, then my appetite was gone.
- Headaches: Very momentary. Feels like I am being stabbed in the head with a screwdriver…cue music from a Stanley Kubrick movie
- Shaking: Not too bad
- Hiccoughs: Hilariously constant and making my whole body jerk. Very, very loud and weird. I had these when I first went on SSRIs. After an hour, they make you hurt. But I can still laugh about them.
- Memory: Non-existent, but I seem to be blissfully unaware of this until something surfaces.
- Concentration: Zero.
- The concept of time and space: Very, very dodgy. I have no idea what day or time it is. Which is kind of a very chilled way to live and not horrible in any way, shape or form.
- Fashion sense: Absolutely non-existent. Oh wait – maybe that is just me. Comfort wins.
- Light – cannot stand to be anywhere bright. Wore my sunnies in a major shopping centre and had no idea.
- Ability to do daily tasks: Probably crap. BUT – I have no idea at all, and my perfectionism seems to be at an all-time low, so zero fucks are being given to this whole situation.
- Speech: Slurred. Very, very slurred. Not going out, or I will be ejected for being intoxicated for sure. Don’t want to end up at the police station with my kids having to come and get me…just yet.
- I am not having any physical symptoms of panic attacks except at night. But that is quite normal with panic attacks, I think…..they seem so much worse at night because there are no distractions. I don’t mind it – means I can sit here and write. 🙂
Emotionally at the moment:
A couple of crying episodes. But at things I should be crying about – as in not all TV ads involving children or animals.
- No feeling of being stressed, really. I feel very, very drugged. Which, thankfully, is making me very, very chilled.
- Neurotic: I will see how neurotic in a few minutes when the J-man comes home. I have been quite insistent that he is angry at me about something and sheltering me because of my “current state”. He is choosing to disagree. Spending the day by myself hides a lot of my neurosis. Thank fuck. I apparently have been staring at him, trying to catch him in his deception. Lucky he loves me.
- Sense of humour: I still have it, but my jokes are falling flat. Maybe because I am trying too hard to appear normal and totally together.
- Jumping at the slightest noise.
- Paranoid when I send a text, and it is not answered right away. “They don’t like me”. “I have done something wrong”. “I am such a bother”, “Noone ever likes me”, “The world hates me” You get my drift. BUT – I still seem to know that this might not be true.
I have mixed the physical and the emotional stuff up…I know, I know…but that is the thing with mental illness…the lines are very blurred. Plus, I either get anal about which category I put my symptoms in or deal with formatting this post. So I have put in bullet points, people. Bullet points. Mission Impossible.
The panic attacks are as much physical as mental…as is the depression…the social anxiety…the OCD…whatever. That is the shit part of it. You either wish you would die to stop it, feel like you are dying or are convinced you need to die to put other people out of their misery.
But – today, I am pleased to be alive and am very grateful to be one week in and two-thirds of my dose down.
I went to the chemist to get something if I needed to sleep – over the counter – trying to avoid any benzos. Lucky me got to hear another “Holy Fuck” when she asked what for, and she heard my initial dose and how long I had been on it. The joy. 🙂