See kids...this is why we really need to get out of the mindset that a pill can make us happy.
About a year ago I started taking Effexor to help prevent a complete nervous breakdown.
I had a lot going on at the time. I had taken my son to the neurologist after an apparent seizure where an EEG revealed "gross abnormalities". Considering the fact that his daddy had severe epilepsy and ended up dying during a seizure seven years ago, I was more than a bit concerned.
At the same time, just because that's how life works, I was also handed a diagnosis of cancer and had the joy of having some very delicate, very important parts removed.
Meanwhile, nearly a year into the marriage, I was discovering the "emotionally distant" jackass side of my new husband. Oh and have I mentioned I'm the editor of a small-town newspaper?
Sheesh...I was a complete basketcase! I wasn't sure if I was coming or going and it was only a matter of time before I snapped.
The Effexor, which has been known to help me over past bumps in the road, didn't seem to be making a dent this time so I decided not to bother and to just suck it up and deal with it. My resolve only lasted for a few months. Once I got the word I needed more surgery cause the first one didn't do the trick, I decided to give it another try. This time it was a low dose of Zoloft. It was amazing! I was calmer, but didn't have that fuzzy-headed, detached from all of life sensation. I could deal with that!
Then, a few days ago, they upped my dose....so now I'm sitting here feeling damn near zombiefied, which makes it pretty difficult to write with any real feeling. Oh, I'm definitely calm, but I wasn't really looking to replace the jumbled mass of emotions that threatened to send me over the edge with this odd, hollow little shell.
I'll blame it on the drugs for now...and start breaking these damn pills in half.