It took me almost two years after getting sober to allow my therapist to convince me that I needed to be medicated. And boy did I. My emotions were so extreme and I was so sensitive to everything. It literally felt like I was an open nerve. I was in so much pain.
Finding the right medications and the right balance of medications was a long and painful journey. I went through almost 8 different anxiety meds before finally finding one that worked.
The current combination of pills my doctor has me on is 100 mg of Lamotrigine and 75 mg of Effexor once a day.
I had a bit of a manic episode several months back so my doctor upped the Effexor to 110 mg per day. This apparently was too much.
I went from some brief mania to completely flat. No emotions. To an addict, you would think this would be good. I mean, really! Who likes emotions?? But I felt like I lost myself and I even started to miss emotional pain. I felt like a masochist. I couldn’t find words and words are precious to me. Words help me feel alive and connected.
I had a hard time wanting to do anything but binge tv and lay on the couch. I became depressed.
In fact, I start fixating on thoughts of suicide. Not on doing it any time soon you see, but very stressed about having my plan and method to do the deed in place. If I could have a solid plan I felt I would be happier knowing I was prepared for when the time came that things became too painful.
The plan I started formulating was a drug overdose. I figured it sounded the least painful way to go. I had a surgery coming up for my leg, and I knew they would provide pain meds that I would not most likely need. And my plan was to store them and add to that stash over time until I had the quantity I needed. And then I’d be prepared. You know for the time. Whenever that was.
I even found myself googling, “what quantities of pills would a female who is 5’9 weighing 240 lbs need to take to die?” And “if you freeze medication does it make them last longer?”
I shared some of this thinking with my therapist, who proceeded to recommended that I go back to my med doctor and discuss adjusting my meds again. And to ask about going back down on my Effexor.
Clearly a bit of mania is better than suicide ideation. That’s the funny things about your own thinking. It can be so challenging to identify when they are off balanced or abnormal.
So it has been about 2 weeks or so since I’ve gone back down to the 75 mg of Effexor. I can feel the difference already.
I can get off the couch. And the shitty thinking that causes me emotional pain is back. But I am glad it is back. Because that means the words are back.
Man I missed words.
My perception issues of things such as, “my sponsor likes her better”, “I’m going to block these people from my posts on FB because… **some fantasized story**”, “my boss and co-workers don’t like me”, “pretty sure I will be fired tomorrow”…and so on.
Yeah, all of that is back. And yeah that sucks. But I have tools to deal with the thoughts.
I’m surprised to hear myself say this, but I prefer to feel. I prefer the thoughts. Even if they are shitty sometimes.
I suppose I can’t say enough about how important it is to prioritize mental health. I am grateful I have built this foundation with my therapist over the last 5 years of trust. So that even my most crazy I share with her. Otherwise I probably wouldn’t have shared it. I may not have gotten my meds adjusted. And then who knows.
Tonight I am grateful for my therapist. For words. For shitty perceptions and feelings.