Truth Time

I have been going through something, and as much as an open book as I pride myself on being, I’ve kept it to myself as much as possible. I’m still trying to work out why, but it felt right at the time.

It’s been a long few weeks, but this last week was the very bottom of it. And it’s because between doctors being on holidays, and me just plain procrastinating, I went two days without my meds, a week and a half ago ago.

If you’re thinking that doesn’t sound like a big deal, I was right there with you. Two little days! Two little days is all it took to remind me how fucking powerful these pills are, how fucking necessary they are FOR ME, and how fucking thankful I am for them.
It’s taken me much longer then I’d assumed to mentally come to terms with the losses our family has felt over the last few weeks, then PMS hit hard, then suddenly it was August which meant I only had a month left as a full time stay at home mom, and I felt depressed for the first time in years. Of course death and huge life changes are things that anyone would naturally pair with some degree of depression, but being off my meds took it to a very unnatural level. There was an overwhelming fatigue for a few days, my nerves just screamed for my bed while wrangling a sweaty toddler all day. And I cried, so much. And then the withdrawal kicked in.

Yes, two days is all it took for my body and my brain to start panicking and searching desperately for the one thing that has successfully kept shit in order for more then 12 years. Restless Leg Syndrome was certainly the most obvious withdrawal symptom, and when you’re not sleeping properly, depressed or not, nothing is right in the world. Every night for a week I’d lay in bed crying while I twitched and stretched my muscles, then I paced the living room for a half hour before going back to bed to cry and twitch again. I was beyond irritable, beyond unmotivated, and just felt empty. Amidst all the crying, though, (seriously, so much crying) I was also reminded of how lucky I am; not only do I have a remarkably supportive family that let me nap when I could, and friends who checked in on me, I’ve also found enough self confidence to be medicated.

So many people struggle through every day, unnecessarily, because society has convinced them that turning to a prescription is weak and that NEEDING help with their mental health makes them less-than. It hasn’t always been easy for me, of course. I started my meds in high school after an episode of Oprah made me realize That how I’d been feeling was called Depression, and told no one. A few years later someone who was a best friend told me they didn’t Want me around their child anymore, after finding out I had panic attacks and took ‘drugs’.

The stigma is a motherfucker, and I know that it robs far too many good people of a better life. Especially moms. Moms who already question every parenting decision and compare themselves to every other mother on the planet and are made to feel like they need to live up to these epic standards that no one’s ever actually seen before... ‘You have a beautiful child, how can you be depressed?’ ‘How can you take care of your kids if you have panic attacks every time you feel sick?’

It’s scary, admitting you can’t do LIFE on your own. Everyone experiences the death of loved ones, job stress, the parenting rollercoaster, breakups and divorces, car accidents and unexpected financial woes... And it’s too easy to assume that EVERYONE else just does it, they just power through and they deal. Everyone else makes it look so easy, so I shouldn’t be struggling. But I hope that someone out their takes some kind of comfort in the fact that I am not everyone else.

I am doing it, powering through and dealing, but I am also medicated. I am a wife and a really great mother, and I am also medicated.  I am a really worthy human being, who just happens to be medicated. 

I’ve been taking my meds nightly again, for 8 days, and with the help of a new RLS prescription and an Ativan, I finally slept last night. Sleep is life changing. And so are the drugs. And things are finally looking up again. When the people we love pass away, it haunts us on and off, possibly for the rest of our lives, and I am still dealing with overwhelming feelings regarding Kindergarten, but at least I’ve got a stable starting place, again.


Ps. Please know that if you are one of those people who are able to take what life throws at you and conquer it naturally, I am so happy for you, and so proud of you. But, if you are someone who’s asked for help, I bow down to you because I know it’s not the easy way out. And if you are one of those people that are stuck in the middle, hurting but thinking it’s too late to seek treatment, it isn’t. It never is. We all deserve a fair chance at facing the day, and I’ve concluded that that’s what my medication is.

Princess Prescriptions

Today's extra deep breaths made me want to take a moment to praise all those who have suffered or are suffering with their prescription medication journey.  I don't mean that in the addiction sense, though I do not doubt the weight of that battle.  I'm referring to those of us who need prescription medications to survive, but have to endure the trial and error before finding what works best.

 All drugs (both medical medication and recreational) work differently for everyone.  One drag of cheap high school pot out of one of my famous apple bongs and I was a giggly mess for hours!  But I had plenty of friends who never reacted to it, or had very negative reactions to it.  And unfortunately that's how it works with prescriptions as well.  And not just the antidepressants and antianxiety meds I'm going to type about, but all drugs that come from a doctor.  I had friends warn me not to start taking birth control (I wasn't even close to being sexually active, but my complexion was mortifying), because they didn't want me to go through mood swings, and gain 20lbs like they had.  I never had any issues with the first pill I tried though, my face cleared up fairly well, and I remained on that brand until the Endo broke through a few years later!  And that brand wasn't making my Endo worse, but different hormones would help more so I made the switch.  

 I also started Celexa in high school, after watching an episode of Oprah and realizing that what'd I'd been feeling for a while was depression.  It was always a fairly low dose, as it often is for depression, and it worked wonders.  Of course high school has the potential for all sorts of upsetting and sometimes traumatizing instances, but in general my mood was very stable on Celexa (along side talk therapy).   Once I got sick though, my depression was nothing in comparison to the anxiety that followed the constant vomiting and diarrhea and pain, and the low dose of Celexa didn't cut it anymore.  

 I went from 10mg to 30mg, as higher doses of Celexa can be helpful for anxiety.  And it did help!  I mean, there were (and always have been) days that required Ativan (another prescription that has never caused me any negative side effects), but I was so glad that Celexa and I could stay together.  A year or so later however, I experienced a very decent break after yet another specialist denied my illness, and I ended up spending a few weeks in a mental rehab program. During those weeks I met with a psychiatrist (until then it was just my GP writing my prescriptions) and he suggested that Celexa wasn't a proper anxiety treatment, and so I began the ups and downs of drug trials that so many people have to go through.  I honestly don't even remember which drugs I tried, but there were 3, and each of them made me feel the way I HATED the media for always portraying people on antidepressant/anxiety meds.  Sluggy, moody, irritable, dizzy and nauseous.  Like a lame zombie that discourages anyone else from giving this class of medication a chance.  

 In the end, I was happily moved back to Celexa, this time 40mg.  I felt lucky, the prescriptions I'd needed through the years always seemed to be right the first time around.  I was even able to remain on a low dose of Celexa during my pregnancy.  But then I had my baby!  And a long with my Endometriosis reading it's hideous head again, I was met with PMDD, all of which sent my anxiety into a raging fit.  I was taking Ativan way more then even I wanted to.  Turns out however, 40mg is all the Celexa you're allowed to take.  Something to do with a new study showing possible negative effects on your heart rate, made physicians very weary to prescribe it especially when there are so many other options.  

 I got in to see another psychiatrist and he suggested adding the minimum dose of Zoloft to my maximum dose of Celexa.  Zoloft and Celexa are basically twins, so in effect it would be like getting 50mg of Celexa.  Perfect!  My GP however, who was suddenly an expert in the field while flipping through her resource book, said that plan made no sense.  Usually SSRIs from different families get mixed together, not the same family.  It had made total sense to me, but apparently I am a pushover, and I agreed to work my way all the way onto Zoloft and all the way off of Celexa; replacing my Celexa with Zoloft gradually.  It made for a remarkably miserable-feeling Christmas holiday.  

 The first step was to take my 40mg of Celexa with 25mg of Zoloft (the minimum dose) for a week.  I experienced some dizziness which wasn't comforting as far as my anxiety goes, but that side effect passed eventually.  Step two was to take 30mg of Celexa with 50mg of Zoloft for two weeks.  I was plagued by the most remarkable indigestion, heartburn that felt like a heart attack and nausea that kept me from Christmas dinner.  All of which are in fact anxiety triggers for me, so suddenly this plan seems counterproductive.  I convinced myself it was all par for the course and that its eventually pass the way the dizziness did, so step three was 20mg of Celexa and 75mg of Zoloft.  So then on top of the daily heart attacks and cautionary runs to the bathroom, there was the oddest jaw pain (of course I googled, and it's fairly common), and then this soul crushing chronic fatigue.  

 My baby could sleep through the night, which meant I'd sleep through the night, and I'd still be exhausted all day.  I could sleep 12 hours straight and not feel awake.  I mean I couldn't actually, because I have a child, but it felt that way. Endometriosis causes me chronic pain and morning sickness, both of which are upsetting and confidence-killing but I learned to mother through it.  Having ZERO energy though?  That equals zero motivation, zero desire to get out, and leads to zero joy in the every day things.  And that makes mothering far harder then it already is.  And it makes staring at a tiny screen typing out a not-super-relevant blog very daunting.  To the point that it's taken me 3 evenings to get this far, and now I'm over it!  So, end of story:

 I went back to my GP and expressed my disappointment in the progress, and she suggested, 'let's try taking your Celexa and adding the minimum of Zoloft.'  Oh!  Genius!  Of course I couldn't say the F word out loud, because my baby who'd just gotten a tear-free needle was in the room.  All I can really do is laugh at it, and hang on tight.  Because of course I can't just switch back to the doses that were originally suggested.  Now I wait (anxiously) to gradually get back to where I need to be, going through it all again but backwards, hoping that in another two weeks I'll be able to say it was worth it. 

 We have to trust our guts, but we also have to trust the process and hang in there.  This much I have learned.  This much, and the fact that this club full of the mentally ill is an unfortunate club to be a part of but full of such bravery.  I got lucky 12 years ago, knowing now that I would not have survived this shitty roller coaster back then.  The trial and error is far easier when you're in a place surrounded by unconditional support, and plenty of help getting through these days.  I know there are so many out there who haven't been as lucky as I've been and aren't in the supportive environment that I'm in, while going through it.  I commend those people, and I praise them.  And extra deep breaths.