Long time no type
May. 29th, 2007 04:51 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
iesikaFor the last few years, I've been taking several drugs, primarily Effexor (venlafaxine), to combat recurring episodes of depression. I was put on the drugs in spring or summer of 2003, after loosing two relatives and a dog I'd had for 14 years and flunking out of most of my classes. This was not my first depressive episode - in fact I was diagnosed with dysthymia going all the way back to my first significant major depressive episode when I was 11. Before that I was in treatment for ADHD.
Long story short, went through a few shrinks (and a few disastrous medications) until I found one that at least talked to me like a human being (it helped that he was a friend of the family who lived half-a-mile from me and whose son was usually at my house playing video games with my brother). He put me on Welbutrin, which seemed to help for a while. When the drugs effects sort of petered out, he put me on Effexor. The sole warning he gave was that it would make me queasy if I didn't take it for a day or two, which seemed a small price to pay.
He didn't follow through very well, didn't warn me of the severe side effects I would experience, didn't suggest any reading or research venues when I asked. Didn't tell me the drug would make me loose all interest in absolutely everything I'd ever enjoyed, from art to reading to friendships to sex. Nothing seemed important. I wasn't really depressed anymore, because I didn't care enough about anything to become upset about it. The apathy got worse the longer I was on the medication, until I realized one day that I no longer had any friends, or even social contact outside of my coworkers and my immediate family. Even aware of this as I now was, I couldn't bring myself to reinitiate contact because I knew I would just space out on my friends again.
Then someone (she knows who she is) sent me a Christmas card and reminded me of what I was missing.
The process of getting off of Effexor is ... hell. It's hell. I was so sick from it that I almost got back on, but I knew I couldn't stay on the damned drug forever and I'd have to face withdrawal some time. If you're curious about the process, my experiences were very similar to this man's, only I was physically ill as well, with fever and vomiting. Not to mention two years worth of missed periods suddenly deciding to arrive all at once (and stay for 10 whole weeks).
But, I'm off now, and feeling so much better I can't put it into words. I've changed my diet and exercise patterns as a way of regulating my serotonin production and uptake (and by all that is holy, why did none of my many doctors ever mention that was a viable treatment option). I'm a bit older and much wiser, and feel like I missed out on a good four years of my own life. I actually finished a painting the other day, and you have no idea how amazing that feels.
Irony of Ironies, I actually now work in the drug regulatory industry. Heh.
I've changed my journal because I've grown up enough to realize I don't want just anyone to be able to connect my online life with my real one. My email address is still tinkerbom at yahoo, if you're interested in resuming contact with me in any capacity, you can reach me there, or just reply here. I ran out on some good friends at important points in their lives, and I completely understand if certain people just don't want to talk to me anymore. You can tell me off, if you like. I deserve it.
Long story short, went through a few shrinks (and a few disastrous medications) until I found one that at least talked to me like a human being (it helped that he was a friend of the family who lived half-a-mile from me and whose son was usually at my house playing video games with my brother). He put me on Welbutrin, which seemed to help for a while. When the drugs effects sort of petered out, he put me on Effexor. The sole warning he gave was that it would make me queasy if I didn't take it for a day or two, which seemed a small price to pay.
He didn't follow through very well, didn't warn me of the severe side effects I would experience, didn't suggest any reading or research venues when I asked. Didn't tell me the drug would make me loose all interest in absolutely everything I'd ever enjoyed, from art to reading to friendships to sex. Nothing seemed important. I wasn't really depressed anymore, because I didn't care enough about anything to become upset about it. The apathy got worse the longer I was on the medication, until I realized one day that I no longer had any friends, or even social contact outside of my coworkers and my immediate family. Even aware of this as I now was, I couldn't bring myself to reinitiate contact because I knew I would just space out on my friends again.
Then someone (she knows who she is) sent me a Christmas card and reminded me of what I was missing.
The process of getting off of Effexor is ... hell. It's hell. I was so sick from it that I almost got back on, but I knew I couldn't stay on the damned drug forever and I'd have to face withdrawal some time. If you're curious about the process, my experiences were very similar to this man's, only I was physically ill as well, with fever and vomiting. Not to mention two years worth of missed periods suddenly deciding to arrive all at once (and stay for 10 whole weeks).
But, I'm off now, and feeling so much better I can't put it into words. I've changed my diet and exercise patterns as a way of regulating my serotonin production and uptake (and by all that is holy, why did none of my many doctors ever mention that was a viable treatment option). I'm a bit older and much wiser, and feel like I missed out on a good four years of my own life. I actually finished a painting the other day, and you have no idea how amazing that feels.
Irony of Ironies, I actually now work in the drug regulatory industry. Heh.
I've changed my journal because I've grown up enough to realize I don't want just anyone to be able to connect my online life with my real one. My email address is still tinkerbom at yahoo, if you're interested in resuming contact with me in any capacity, you can reach me there, or just reply here. I ran out on some good friends at important points in their lives, and I completely understand if certain people just don't want to talk to me anymore. You can tell me off, if you like. I deserve it.
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Date: 2007-06-08 08:41 pm (UTC)The article was fantastic. He summed up the process much better than I ever could. Prior to reading his description of "brain shocks" I had been trying to explain to my mother about the sensation of someone trying to pull my brain in all directions at once with a series of fish-hooks, which mostly resulted in being stared at in shock and horror.