Inside Out

In the past, I’ve always tried my best to be upfront and honest regarding my battle with anxiety. I believe it important, in a world where mental health issues are so often mishandled, shunned, or outright blasphemed, to keep up an open conversation about the very real struggles, successes, and failures that every day folks endure. I spoke often about it in the past, almost regularly, but since becoming a business owner, that has fallen away.

The truth is, I’ve been taking Venlafaxine (also known as Effexor XR) for the past 6 years. I was initially prescribed the antidepressant for post-partum anxiety. At the time, the medication was a major blessing, one I needed to aid in my escape from the darkness. After nearly a year, I was feeling better, and I made the decision to come off the medication. I weaned off successfully; however, the anxiety returned just 6 months later, and my doctor gently suggested I go back.

A lot has happened in the 6 years since. From little things, like denying my introverted nature to get out and meet friends in the same season of life, to big things, like purchasing a business with my husband that required us to start over in an unfamiliar industry – and meant me going back to work for the first time since our youngest was born.

I have a support system now that is comprised of both family and friends. I have a career, one I am immensely proud of and one that challenges me regularly, and an amazing business partner. Our kids are older, more self-sufficient. My plate is still full, sometimes overflowing, but I have more hands to help hold it. So, on my 39^th birthday this year, I made a promise to myself.

The first part of that promise was that I would do my best to discontinue my medication, something I’d wanted to do for awhile. The side effects, though manageable, had gotten long in the tooth (increased blood pressure, weight gain, sweating, increased risk of bleeding, chronic fatigue). Add in the long-term implications (impacts on memory, impacts on the endocrine system, increased estrogen levels, among others), and I’d simply prefer to wean off and stay off. If it’s not completely necessary, I’d rather opt out.

The second part, and probably the most important, was that if I came off the medication and realized that it was something I still needed, that I would give myself grace. That I wouldn’t beat myself up over needing the help. In other words, that I would practice what I always preach – to never be ashamed of the struggles or perceived failures that are inevitable, but to accept and appreciate the available help.

Anyone who has ever been on an antidepressant – especially those who have tapered off of one – knows it’s a process. My medication is known for being difficult to discontinue – as an SNRI, it affects not only serotonin, but norepinephrine as well. I’m currently about halfway through the tapering protocol established by my doctor. That means I’ve been tapering for close to four weeks. It’s going well so far, at least as well as I expected, but it’s tough.

The worst symptom is dizziness. It is a bizarre feeling to be dizzy while sitting down, and yet here I am. Along with the near constant dizzy spells come the “brain zaps,” which are just as miserable as they sound, though I’ve been assured that they are harmless. The dizziness leads to nausea, though thankfully ginger seems to keep that under wraps. I’ve had little to no appetite, but I’m much more thirsty than normal. I have regular heart palpitations and headaches. All of that said, my sleep has been more restful, and my energy levels are good.

Aside from the physical withdrawal symptoms, there’s plenty going on in my brain, too. I’m irritable, and I have little to no patience. There are random times throughout the day when I feel like I could burst into tears, without any trigger at all. After so many years without them, I not only have dreams, but they are vivid and wild. I’ve avoided get togethers and even most social interactions because it’s overwhelming right now, with my emotions all over the place. And yet…

The threads of my creativity are glowing. I didn’t realize that they’d dimmed so much until now. It hasn’t always been this way – it’s hard to explain, but there was a period of time when I was on  medication and my creativity was not stymied, when I clung to stories and characters like they were additional lifelines. As time has gone on, though, they have faded. I’ve toiled for hours – no exaggeration – over simple writing prompts. I can sit and stare at a blank screen, finally giving up because the words won’t come. For the first time in a long, long time, there’s a spark inside of me. I’m not entirely sure that it’s medication related, but I do know that there is a fog that is lifting, and I’m excited to see what else is underneath.

I’ve got three more “official” weeks on my taper, as long as all goes well. Even though I’m struggling now, I look forward to seeing how I’ll feel then.

If you know me, thanks for your patience. I promise I won’t stay away forever.