Posts Tagged ‘withdrawl symptoms’

I Had a Dream

Saturday, February 20th, 2010

…That I was preparing a bathtub full of chocolate for my husband but the mafia kept attacking us.  Quite frustrating.

Today has been…not a good day.  Not mafia-attack kind of bad, precisely, but not great all the same.  I’ve been carefully weaning myself off of the Luvox this week (the Stealth Luvox, that has yet to do anything but occasionally leap out at me from around corners in a most unhelpful way).  My psychiatrist suggested that I cut the dosage in half for a week, and that should do it.  I almost laughed at him.


So I broke out my pill cutter and started carefully scraping the edges off of pills that evening, and have them all carefully tucked away in day-by-day containers now, from the slightly abraded to the tiny sliver that’s currently slotted to be my last dose.  Body appears to still be noticing the change, though.  Only emotional symptoms rather than physical so far.  That’s good, I guess.  Or it would be if I could stop being BAT SHIT F*ING CRAZY long enough to notice.

This week was hard.  I had recognized that it was hard.  I had wondered if perhaps it was partly the changing doses rearing their ugly heads.  They tend to do that when my dose goes down (Or up….  Or stays the same…).  At any rate, when I uncurled from the couch this afternoon, half-naked, still sobbing, and miserable seemingly beyond repair at realizing that we have too many errands to do this weekend, I began to think that perhaps, just perhaps, there was some merit to this “dosage change” theory.  My poor husband put on the music I’ve been liking lately, and patted me helplessly, and reassured me in ways that may as well have been Yiddish at the time, and tried not to look at me like my head was exploding.  Which it may have been.  A little.

It’s an odd sensation to recognize perfectly through it all that the whole thing MAKES NO SENSE, and that I’m inconsolable for entirely chemical reasons.  Still, hurts like hell at the time.  Even the sunlight made me cry.  What the heck is that about??

Ride it out, girl.  Just ride it out.  At least I know this isn’t me.

But so help me, if the mafia bothers me today, they are going to regret it.

Happy Birthday to Me

Friday, September 25th, 2009

Haven’t been very good about getting things down here lately.  The process of weaning off the Effexor has be kind of a brutal one at times, and I haven’t been all that great about sitting upright for extended periods of time.  Holy crap, can I see why addicts end up bailing on their attempts to get clean and taking a hit.  This sucks.  A lot.

Mostly, I’ve been having extreme nausea again.  The last two days I couldn’t really do anything, I was so sick.  I alternated between lying on the couch moaning to myself, and sitting with my head between my knees moaning to myself (for variety).

I’ve also been experiencing what the internet as a whole seems to have dubbed “brain shivers,” or “electric brain thingies,” or “zapping sensations,” or “holy crap this sucks why did I ever agree to take Effexor in the first place.”  I’m not sure I could have believed it if I wasn’t experiencing it.  It’s truly the most freaking strange sensation I’ve ever had, and I am the undisputed queen of random pains and injuries around here.  Basically, I hear this little metallic twanging sound, sort of like a spring, or the lighting of a lighter, or a cricket (not the lighting of a cricket.  Back off, Ambiguous Grammar Squad).  Then there’s this moment of being removed from space-time.  It’s like one moment I’m in one location, and then the next I’m a few centimeters away, but I DID NOT PASS THROUGH SPACE.  My husband has not yet mentioned me strobing in and out of existence, but it would not surprise me to learn that I had.  It takes a moment for my brain to adjust, as it gets very confused as to why the visual data I am now processing does not match what it thinks I should be.  And at the same time, or just after, I get this little ripple sensation down the length of my body, most intensely from about brain to stomach level usually, or sometimes from stomach up to brain.  Very disorienting, and the resulting dizziness isn’t doing much to help with the nausea.

I think it’s the little metallic robot sound that weirds me out the most.  Took me a while to be sure that I was actually hearing what I thought I was hearing, and that it was actually coming from inside me.  Freaking strange.

So I have not been writing here.  This hasn’t been a stellar period in my life to be honest.  But I’m off the pills for now, and if I can hang on, hopefully can stay off them and try something that does not produce clicking sounds in my brain.  It is my birthday today.  I will be spending it traveling to see my doctor.  I hope.

I think disorientation is probably bad for driving.  Don’t tell.

Of Violence and Baked Goods

Sunday, September 6th, 2009

So, pardon the lack of communication lately, but as mentioned I’ve been weaning off of the Effexor since it seemed to make things so much worse, and OH MY LORD is the Effexor withdrawl making me crazy.   And I had thought the consistent dosage was problematic!

I was in the grocery store today, with my cart parked in an open area while my husband and I were deciding on something or other, and some woman pushed by me with the bitchiest, most insulting, most accusatory, exasperated “excuse me” I have ever heard.  And sweet heavens, did I want to PUNCH HER IN THE FACE.  One has to understand that I am all of 5’3” tall, size 2, and an absolute heartfelt pacifist.  I quite literally apologize to bugs when I squish them in my house rather than taking them outside.  And then I feel guilty about it.  But damned if I didn’t want to jump her in the laundry aisle.  I’m fairly sure that had she come back to get in my face, I quite sincerely would have started a produce-area brawl.  …Just a bit out of character for me.

(normally I only brawl near the frozen foods)

My poor husband had the luxury of being with me all day today and joining me on the crazybus.  I’ve been ferociously irritable, and very, very mentally vacant (which mostly means that I know I’m really mad. …I’m just not sure why).   We split up for a moment during the grocery excursion, and I literally had to go back and ask him what one of the TWO whole items I had gone to get was.  …Then proceeded to forget what the other one had been by the time I got to the appropriate area.  I eventually remembered, since I knew it had to be something nearby, but it was frigging difficult, let me tell you.  In the span of about an hour my mental faculties went from reasonably strong to sea cucumber.  Except at least sea cucumbers seem to know what they’re doing down there.  I’m being BEATEN OUT by sea cucumbers.

Oh…and the cravings.  I want to eat.  Anything.  Everything.  And I don’t just want to eat, I want to OVEReat.  Until I’m bursting.  I want to eat until I physically cannot stuff anything else in my stomach, and then start looking sideways at my ears and nostrils, like maybe something edible would fit in there… We passed by the bakery section today to get some tortillas, and I literally stopped dead in front of a package of double chocolate cookies.  Two dozen double chocolate cookies.  And I wanted to eat every single one.  Right there.  I know that this is not good for me.  I realize that rationally I have worked very hard to get myself down to my current weight, and do not want to lose all of that progress in one or two months of sweet, sweet indulgence.  But I also REALLY, REALLY want to eat those cookies.  I was trying to explain my dilemma to my husband (who was trying to be supportive, but really just wanted to exit the store now.  …Preferably without a wife suddenly 24 cookies larger).

“Something is seriously messed up with me right now.  I just really, REALLY badly want to eat that whole package of cookies and punch somebody.”

A moment later, still standing in front of the cookies, as my will is strong enough not to have put them in my cart or mouth, but not quite strong enough to leave them, I am asking with pleading tones if it wouldn’t be justifiable to get the cookies, since I was so good and didn’t punch anyone.

No,…I didn’t really think so either.

(I did not get the cookies.  …But I still want them.  A lot.  Distractingly so, really.)

So life, it seems, is going to be a bit of a roller coaster for a while.

And my husband may or may not come home from work next week to find me stuffing cookies in my ear.