I've quit refined sugar, caffeine and anti-depressants! (5...4...3...2......)

After months of being on different anti-depressants and experiencing none of the beneficial anti-depressant effects, and having seemingly every single side effect, I decided to stop taking them for a while.  I've been off for a few weeks now and I feel okay.  Just normal; not great, not terrible.  Normal with none of the side effects of drugs, which is better than what I was experiencing on the drugs.  I was most recently on Wellbutrin but it made me angry and anxious and weepy.  You know what else makes me angry and anxious and weepy?  Depression.  I don't need a drug to exacerbate issues I can get naturally and for free.  So I stopped.  I haven't experienced any terrible withdrawal effects like I did with Effexor, but today it occurred to me that there must be some so I looked it up.  Here's the list:

aggression, anxiety, balance issues , blurred vision , brain zaps, concentration impairment, constipation, crying spells, depersonalization, diarrhea, dizziness. electric shock sensations, fatigue, flatulence, flu-like symptoms, hallucinations, hostility, highly emotional, indigestion, irritability, impaired speech, insomnia, jumpy nerves, lack of coordination, lethargy, migraine headaches / increased headaches, nausea, nervousness, over-reacting to situations, paranoia, repetitive thoughts or songs, sensory; sleep disturbances, severe internal restlessness (akathasia), stomach cramps, tremors, tinnitus (ear ringing or buzzing), tingling sensations, troubling thoughts, visual hallucinations / illusions, vivid dreams, speech visual changes, worsened depression.

I highlighted some things I have concerns about. 

*Depersonalization:  That sounds scary.  Does that mean I can change from being a person to being something else?  A robot?  A tiger?  I have not had that (yet).  But would I even know if I had?  Maybe I'm a tiger right now.

*Flatulence:  I find flatulence to be a side effect of almost everything.

*Hallucinations:  Maybe this mid-life crisis is a hallucination?

*Highly emotional indigestion:  Is there any other kind?  ....
oh wait, I didn't see the comma.  It's actually "highly emotional, (comma) indigestion. Never mind. This withdrawal-symptom list needs a proof-reader.  Highly emotional....... what?  They are leaving me hanging.  That makes me anxious.

*Over-reacting to situations:  Does this mean that bawling through the entire last episode of the John Adams miniseries because of all the deaths, but especially when he said he thought a flower was the most beautiful thing he's ever seen, was a tad over-the-top?  Maybe.  Maybe a person prone to depression shouldn't watch sad movies.

I'm trying lately to eat healthy, exercise and I'm also trying my hand at being drug-free (prescription drugs, anyway) and I don't know how long I can stand it.  I've been told by my friend Pete who is a psychologist to try out therapy and see if it helps but I can't bring myself to go see a stranger and unload and get their opinions of how I could better live a life that I've been living for the better part of 40 years mostly pretty well, when they just met me an hour beforehand.  Doesn't seem very efficient. 

So instead I've been looking at books about cognitive behavior therapy for treating depression because that seems more efficient.  They are (probably) written by someone at the top of their field, who has thought about what they are going to tell you long enough to write it, proof it, edit it and submit it to a publisher, and hopefully they have gotten their ideas peer-reviewed.  Seems much better than a one on one therapy session if you ask me.  So I researched the best books on the topic. 

If you ever want a good laugh, read the reviews depressed people write for self-help books.  Just look at any self-help book for depression and read the one and two star reviews.  Hilarious.  I LOVE depressed people.  They (we?) are sooooooo skeptical about everything and utterly reject the idea that depression is something that you can behave your way out of, but feel so miserable that they will try any stupid thing that comes along.  (Oh, and "depressed" people "like" to use a lot of snarky "quotation marks," which "cracks me up.")  Here are some quotes from some of the reviews:

"I am guilty of "distorted" thinking. Oh, dear! Surely I should want to correct my "distortions"!"

"This is a BIG book full of unnecessary material that someone who is severely depressed is going to have a HARD time even holding up."

"Because the book got so many good reviews, I thought it must have been written by God himself. It wasn't."

"Does it pass the suicide test?"

"Literally, half of the book is saying 'My CBT is helpful!'. Well, I got this message from the first 50 pages, no need to repeat it on every 2nd page."

And on and on and on... There was another review that was kind of long but the gist was about a story in the book told by the author about the day his baby was born.  The baby came out looking kind of blue and the author said that he had all kinds of "stinkin' thinkin'" (snarky depression quotes) going through his head.  He worried that his new baby wasn't getting enough oxygen, he worried that he would be strapped with caring for a mentally retarded child because of these first few oxygen deprived moments, but then he stopped himself and employed his cognitive behavior techniques:  1)He can't predict the future and 2)he must have faith that other people know what they are doing.  The reviewer said exactly what I was thinking:  YOUR BABY IS BLUE.  GET HIM SOME AIR, FOR FUCK' SAKE.  Isn't that just common sense and totally non-depressed and normal?  It just seems like a pragmatic reaction to me.  Eyeore is (was? is he dead?) a pragmatist.

Depression/Pragmatist test:  If you saw this picture and thought,
"Watch out Eyeore, that bird is going to crap on you, right in your mouth" you are probably
a pragmatist.  And that bird probably did crap on him. 

Have any of you, my readers, been to therapy?  If so, how was it? 

Effexor, a nightmare in a capsule or convenient tablets!

Remember a while back when I told you that my post-partum depression was rearing its ugly head again? Well, I've been beating it back since then and it's been kind of a rough road.  My doctor doubled my dose of Prozac which didn't really help all that much.  So then she said "we" should try Effexor.  She said Prozac might have stopped working because sometimes people develop a tolerance.  Effexor works as an SSRI as well as a norepinephrine uptake inhibitor.  Or something like that.  I was willing to try anything.  While I was in the office she told me not to stop taking the Effexor abruptly because although it wouldn't be life-threatening, it might be "uncomfortable."  She said one of the nice things about Effexor is that it also has anti-anxiety properties.  Okay, sure, I like being calm I guess.  I have never really had a huge issue with anxiety.  I don't particularly like going to the dentist or almost dying on planes, but other than that, I have no history of anxiety issues.

I started taking the Effexor.  After a couple of weeks I was feeling every last possible ever-recorded side effect.  I had chills, brain fog (which I suspect is part of the anti-anxiety?), chest pain, crippling lethargia (more anti-anxiety?),

This is what I'm like on anti-anxiety medication

eye pressure, muscle weakness, etc. etc. etc.  I had to stop taking it even though it was working on the depression.  I looked up how to taper off and I read some horror stories about Effexor withdrawal.  HORROR stories.  Like people saying that it was comparable to withdrawing from heroin.  Like people saying they had to take weeks off of work until they got over the worst of it.  Like people saying they split apart capsules and counted out the hundreds of tiny beads and reduced their intake of the drug by one teeny bead a day, taking months and months to taper off and STILL had withdrawal symptoms.  What???  Why would my doctor give me something so scary?

I didn't think it could really be all that bad, so I told my doctor I was getting off it and began tapering with no horrible effects.  The doctor told me that I might experience some mild anxiety while I was withdrawing. Like I said, anxiety has never really been a problem for me so I wasn't very concerned.  Eventually I got down to taking such a tiny chunk of pill that I almost couldn't see it and still, no side effects!  No effects, that is, until I actually stopped taking the medicine.  I've been totally off for about a week and every day I wake up with a throbbing headache and joint and muscle pain like I have the flu.  There's also mild, annoying, dizziness and nausea.  I am also finding it hard to concentrate on things. I am listening to a book on CD and it's been so frustrating because I can't keep the characters or plot straight.  It might just be a bad book, but I can't really tell.  The last thing I needed was a pill that makes me sick and dumber than I already was.  All of this is annoying, but it will get better.  I can power through the physical effects.

But remember when I told you the doctor told me I might experience some "mild anxiety" during withdrawal?  Have you ever had a panic attack?  I hadn't before, but a few days ago I had a flat-out, freakshow panic attack.  I thought I was having a heart attack and was going to DIE.  I could hardly move.  I couldn't stop sobbing.  I could hardly breathe.  It was the worst feeling EVER.  Holy shit!  "MILD anxiety???"

The doctor gave me a prescription for Wellbutrin.  I'm afraid to take it!  Now that I know she is the queen of understatement I'm worried about everything she bothers to casually mention.  She told me that Wellbutrin is a bit of a stimulant so not to take it before bed.  What does that mean in reality?  Does it mean that I will need to get a person-sized hamster wheel to burn off the stimulating effects of the Wellbutrin?

(Maybe a hamster wheel is not a bad idea....)

Will my whole family be annoyed by the sound of my hamster wheel squeaking all night long every single night that they will have to move my cage to the laundry room? The doctor also said that some people experience increased anxiety.  Does this mean my heart will literally explode?  I read on Drugs.com that Wellbutrin can sometime cause seizures.  I don't want seizures.  I prefer my brain seizure-free.  Of course, my doctor didn't mention anything about seizures.  That probably means there's only about a 75% chance that it will happen.  I still feel pretty good depression-wise so I'm in no hurry to get on anything else right now.

What kind of medicine do you take?  Do you have any side effect nightmare stories that will make me feel better about mine?

Poor decisions that turn out okay keep you from ever learning your lesson: UPDATED!

You know how you get to be a certain age (over 40) and know better than to do some stupid things that seem like a good idea at the time?  Like calling old boyfriends when you have been drinking, or overpacking for a trip, or cutting your hair when you've stayed up too late and are overtired and have just looked at some very unflattering pictures of yourself?  You know how those things are bad ideas?  Well, thankfully I have never done the first one.  Although I have called people who were not YET my boyfriend after I'd been drinking.  It just goes to show that I am charming, charming, charming! even (especially) after I've had a few.  That was years ago though.  Why are we talking about drunk-dialing old and/or future boyfriends?  I don't know.  The last thing: cutting hair in an over-tired state, I've done that plenty of times before.  And I did it again last night.  I was looking at this picture of myself:



(Sometimes I look a lot like Nick Cage)


And I thought, it's time to face facts, I cannot pull off the bare forehead.  I look like Frasier if Frasier had long stringy hair, which he doesn't, therefore I look worse than Frasier. 

So when I was rushing around, getting ready for bed, stressing because I wanted to get some sleep because I had to work at the crack of dawn, I looked at my hair in the bathroom mirror and I thought, "I should cut some bangs."  Actually, here is my entire inner dialogue:

Me:  I should cut some bangs.

Me: Just finish brushing your teeth and go to bed already.

Me:  No. It won't take long.  And I'll look way better.

Me:  No, you won't.  Haven't you learned that late-night hair cutting is NEVER a good idea?

Me:  No.

Me:  You are an idiot.  Hey, why are you getting the scissors?  Go to BED!

Me:  This will only take a second.

Me:  You are going to regret this. 

Me:  No I won't.  I'll look cute.
Me:  No, you won't.  You'll look like you cut your own hair in the middle of the night.
Me:  I look that way all the time anyway.
Me:  That's because it's the only time you ever get haircuts.  Leave it to a professional!
Me:  No.  I can do it.
Me:  PLEASE, just go to bed.
Me:  Here goes!  (snip snip)
Me:  Great.  You did it.  Tomorrow I will tell you "I told you so."
Me:  I think after a fresh washing and blow-drying, it will look good.
Me:  I'm pretty sure it won't. 
Me:  Sure it will.  These choppy chunks will blend right in.
Me:  No they won't.  WHAT ARE YOU DOING!  PUT THE SCISSORS DOWN AND GO TO BED!
Me:  I think I can blend these choppy parts.
Me:  By cutting it more?  STOP!
Me:  I should.  I can't though.  Man, these scissors are dull!  I don't know what's wrong with me.  Help me.
Me:  I give up.  I'm not talking to you anymore.

Me:  Okay, I'll stop.  Goodnight.

And I got up this morning and rolled out of bed, tired from being up so late, and totally forgot about my late-night major-hair-decision.  I washed, dried and I LOOK SO CUTE!  What do you know, late night self-inflicted impulse-haircuts are a good idea! 



Me, this morning.  Bangs are a miracle!



Update:  Okay, that last picture really isn't me.  It is Keara Knightly.  Honest mistake.  One of my loyal readers wanted to see an actual "after" picture of me.  Sorry, but all my pictures are "before" pictures.  I'm still waiting for the day I can call myself an "after."  So anyway, I took some pictures of my new bangs.  Here, have a look:

BEFORE Before:

AFTER Before:

De De De...Depression

"Where are you?"  I've been hearing that for a while now from my peeps on the internet and now that I'm on my way back, I'll tell you where I've been.  I've been depressed.  (HA HA! OMG, that's such a funny topic for a humor blog!) Well, it's true. In the interest of being an over-sharer with a blog, I'll tell you all about it. I debated writing about this at all because it's about the most personal thing about me, my biggest vulnerability and all, and frankly, that's nobody's beeswax.  But maybe someone out there needs a depression buddy and if so: HEY! WE CAN BE DEPRESSED TOGETHER! ;o) !!!  LOL!  Just kidding.  I'm starting to feel better so don't bring me down with your sob stories.  Just kidding!  Just kidding.  (seriously, kidding... boy, kidding looks like a funny word after you write it a bunch:  kidding kidding kidding, kidding kidding....)

I've had bouts of depression since college, but I could deal with it and had devised methods of pulling myself out of it, but it got out of control after my second baby was born.  I got major post-partum depression but didn't tell my doctor because in my crazy, depressed brain I thought if she had any idea how I was really feeling she would call social services and they'd take my kids away.  I didn't want to go on anti-depressants because I thought that was a cop-out and if I was any kind of woman I could beat it on my own.  Then one day I misplaced the checkbook and reacted (and felt) like I had lost a child.  During this same time period I also tried to cook popcorn on the stove "old-school" and it burned and ruined the pan and I felt like a total loser-failure worthless piece of shit.  Yeah, that's right, because I screwed up popcorn.

Then one day I brought my little baby out for a walk in the woods with me on a nice day because I thought that might help lift my spirits.  While I was out there I kept having self-loathing thoughts and feeling guilty that my beautiful new baby was going to have to grow up with an insane mother and I had a split second thought that she would be better off if I left her in the woods.  Someone would find her and she'd be fine.  She'd be better than fine.  A part of me recognized the insanity and screamed to me to GET SOME HELP, CRAZY!  I talked to my doctor and told her that I had been feeling sad and tired and worthless etc etc. and she gave me a depression screening.  According to the test I was clinically depressed and she said it was totally treatable and she didn't once suggest that maybe I should not have custody of children.  She put me on Prozac.  About three weeks later the darkness lifted.  To say I felt better is a total understatement.  It was like night and day.

I've had people ask me what it feels like to be depressed.  It's hard to explain to someone who has never experienced it.  It's not a mood, it's an ever-present smothering darkness. Here are some of my personal symptoms:

being terrified (constant terrifying "what if" thoughts with feelings of terror totally out of sync with the situation)
feeling incredible guilt for no reason
feeling worthless
feeling like I am a drag on friends and family
feeling like a prima donna because I'm preoccupied with how I'm feeling from minute to minute and trying to find some way to make myself feel better.  Doesn't leave much room for thinking of anyone else.
feeling selfish
feeling stupid
having physical pain: heaviness in my chest, dull leg/back/headache
self-loathing - constantly sick to death of myself and my stupid brain.
feeling irritating and irritated by almost everything
hopeless - this is it, I'm never going to feel better.
helpless - there is no cure, I might as well accept this as my life.
feeling rage
loss of control
feeling mentally weak
Am tired all the time but can't sleep for more than an hour or two at a time at night.  Could sleep all day.
bored with everything
Tears squirting out of my eyes unprovoked at inopportune moments.
joyless

The stupid thing about depression is that when you are in the middle of it you don't recognize you are in the middle of it.  You think you can get better if you would just decide to get better.  Since I have been dealing with this for so long, I have become more self-aware and can tell when the depression is rearing its ugly head again.  It usually starts with fear.  I think things like, "what if Kira gets run over by the school bus" or "what if Sam gets hit by a car"  (lots of automobile themed fears).  When I register these thoughts I immediately try to think if maybe I've not been taking my Prozac regularly and most times, sure enough, I've not been the best about taking the meds.  Then, after I get back on and stay on, I feel better again.

I don't want to be on medication.  Who does?  When I first moved to Duluth I was off the Prozac.  I think, if I remember correctly, that after I went on them the first time and got better I thought, "OMG, I'm better.  I don't need medication anymore," and I went off them, and I suppose the stress of moving triggered a new wave of depression, and I then had to find a new doctor. My new (not current, thankfully) doctor insisted that if I wanted to continue with my anti-depressants, I had to have a consultation with a therapist.  I was about as open to that as a clinically depressed young mom can be and I went only because I had no choice.  I didn't see the point because NOTHING WAS WRONG.  I didn't need to talk anything out.  There was no real stress in my life.  My depression was completely biological/chemical/physiological, it was literally in my head.  The guy I went to was a total tool.  He tried so hard to be hippie/liberal/new age.  He had a little fountain on a table and he scotch taped some little plastic turtles to the rim.  He was wearing wool socks with Birkenstocks.  To work.  This was the person I was supposed to turn my mental health over to.  Ugh.  I got through the consultation, and because of the depression screening he gave me and the unstoppable weeping that seemed to make him incredibly uncomfortable for someone who should be trained to deal with people having mental breakdowns, he concurred with the G.P. that I was in fact, depressed. Um, no duh.

Since then, through painful trial and error of going on and off medication, trying less and more medication, I have learned that I will probably forever have post-partum depression.  Pregnancy pushed my already depression-prone brain over the edge.  That's depressing in itself, but what can you do?  Accept it, medicate the shit out of it, and move on, that's what.

If you are experiencing depression you are not alone.  There are LOTS of people that have depression (which kind of makes me feel not-so-spesh) If you have depression, take the advice I gave to myself way back when Kira was a baby, "Get some help,Crazy!"  Tell someone. Do something about it because you don't have to live like that.  Hang in there!

(and when I say "Hang in there" I mean it like this:

Awwwww.... cute!

Not like this:

Awwwww.....

Btw, I am in no way qualified to give any professional advice or be a spokesperson for depression.)