the one where i talk about being a spaz

a few months ago while talking to my new doctor i mentioned that the medication i was taking for my anxiety was working okay, but i wasn't totally in love with the side effects and would be open to trying something new. we decided i would try a different type of ssri, just to see if it was better or worse or what. since my very first diagnosis as someone with an anxiety disorder with a pinch of OCD (the boring counting kind, not the good holy-shit-you-can-eat-off-my-kitchen-floor kind) i've taken one, and only one, brand of ssri. there are a ton out there, and i thought it would be to my advantage to give another one a test run. you would think that just changing the brand of pill i take, not the kind, wouldn't matter much, but for some unknown reason, they all react differently to different folks.

i ended up spazzing out. pretty big time. shakes and insomnia and the overwhelming feeling that something was not quite right, that something was indeed, very, VERY wrong and just around the corner, waiting in ambush. it was not as bad as my last breakdown, but it's a slippery slope and thankfully i realized something wasn't right and went in and got everything re-adjusted.

when i was originally diagnosed i was younger, and my outlook was good. all the shrinks and doctors i saw thought i was just going through a rough patch and would only be on the medication for a few months to a year. they were hopeful that the ssri would help "re-wire" my brain to deal with stress, and that i would eventually taper off and go back to unmedicated life. it's been about eight years now, and all my doctors agree that i might be one of those people who takes the pills for life.

hearing that has been harder for me than the original diagnosis, which left me bereft and crying on the floor of my apartment for days. this has been a much more difficult thing to face. one the one hand, i understand that the medication makes my life more livable; without it i am a mess, unable to work and seriously lacking in social skills or grace. on the other, when they work sometimes they do it too well and i feel numb and sort of out of it. i worry that i'm not having authentic or meaningful interactions with other people. i worry that i'm unable to have long-term romantic relationships because i can't connect on a deeper level. i worry about becoming the crazy cat lady, or becoming a drunk, or freaking out in public. i never feel okay talking about this to anyone, and my closest friends, the people i love the most, often don't know what's going on until afterward. a part of me wants to keep this secret buried as far as it can go, covered in concrete then planted with daisies over the top. part of me thinks this is ridiculous and that i shouldn't be ashamed of my mental illness. i am, of course, and think i always will be. i understand, in a way, what my father goes through when people dismiss his cancer because he was a life-long smoker, i think there is a large group of folks out there who think that my anxiety is a by-product of a weak mind, that i'm just not tough enough to beat it back, that if i weren't such a drama queen or immature i would just buck up and deal with what life had to offer. i want to explain that i did try, and in some ways life without the drugs was awesome. i was thinner without trying. i felt happy in a sparkly way that is sometimes hard to recapture. sex was easier. i never had to worry about having enough medication, where i was going to get more, and finding a doctor who was (is) sympathetic and not judgmental. the downside was just that, down. when i could function i did so well, when i couldn't i was a hot mess.

i don't know what all this means, to be honest. i'm not trying to garner sympathy or get a whole lot "you're awesome!" comments. i think i'm trying to spell out what this has been like for me, to do what little i can to relieve some of the stigma around being one of the many people who takes some form of psychiatric medication. i've said this before many times, but i wish there was some test i could take that would prove that my brain is just wired in a way that isn't conducive to living a modern life. if they could show my brain's off reaction to seratonin, like a blood test can show diabetes or hepatitis, my life would be easier. i think i would feel less like a failure and try less hard to justify my choices.

the other night i was lying in bed, unable to sleep, freaking out about the coming day, the past day, and everything in between and i thought; if this life is all we have, if right here and right now are it-no afterlife, no pearly gate, nothing to look forward but worm food-then what the hell am i doing? do i want to live all jittery and unhappy and inside my own brain? the answer is no. i don't want to take the meds, but i also don't want to live a life where i worry it away without being able to enjoy it. i take a little pill every night before bed, and sometimes a happy blue one on very, very, rotten and horrible days. things could be worse.