the end of a 9.5 year era (my life as a psychiatric medication addict)

To be honest, I thought that I was going to officially unofficially end this blog. I only have so many stories to tell, and rants to go on before people get fed up with my uncreative story telling and word usage, and to be perfectly honest, there’s some stuff about my mental health that I’m actually not okay with writing about on the internet. I know this is supposed to be completely uncensored, no bs, etc. etc., but some things are just best left to my own devices (one of them not being a computer). That’s why people have friends.

But there are still things, okay a lot of things. For example, why haven’t I posted jack squat in the past month or so? There are many answers to that question, but the main one being this: I’m officially on the klonopin wagon (I had to google “on the wagon” vs. “off the wagon” because I could have sworn that being “off the wagon” meant that you weren’t doing the addictive thing, but it’s the opposite and now I’m really confused about this phrase. Cause being “on the wagon” sounds like you’re back on the drug of choice, which totally makes more sense and not “yeah I’m on the wagon, I decided to stop drinking.” When you’re off a drug, you should be “off the wagon,” right?)

About a month and a half ago, after being fed up with psychiatrists telling me that I shouldn’t be taking Klonopin long term, that it leads to dementia and Alzheimers and it’s addicting and terrible for you, I finally went to my primary care doc and had him taper me off of it. I noticed my short-term memory going a bit. My anxiety wasn’t really under control anymore and unless I got a stronger dosage or switched to another medication that probably wouldn’t help, it was looking like I was going to be taking psychiatric medication for the rest of my life and eventually develop more brain damage than I’ve already inflicted upon myself and has been inflicted on me by medication.

I still remember when I first started taking Klonopin. It worked almost instantly and suddenly the things that normally scared me were just whatever everyday things. I lost a lot of weight because I was constantly nauseous and didn’t eat more than 500 calories a day and was still exercising daily. And for a while, I felt really great. My self-esteem soared because I finally had the mind and body I had been wanting for years. The nausea went away, but I still kept losing weight, which was okay with me. And I still felt better in general. I wasn’t scared to be around people or go out in public. After a while, I adjusted to it, but I just kept taking it because it was just a part of my daily routine and I didn’t think twice about it besides that it was still helping. And then I decided it was time to take away the safety blanket. No doctor could convince me to stop taking it, I made this decision myself.

After a month and a half of misery, days where I couldn’t walk straight, days I sat in my car before work having a panic attack, days where I couldn’t be around more than 1 person at a time, days where I’d stay in bed all day because my blood pressure dropped down to a borderline hypotension level of 90/58 and I thought I was dying..

I’m now happy to say I’m on my last week of tapering. For this last week of being a pill popper, I’m down to 1/4mg of Klonopin once a day, and then next week, I’ll be pill free. For 4.5 years, I’ve taken 1mg twice a day of Klonopin, always relying on it to keep me calm, cure my hangovers, blame anything that happened that day on the fact that I “forgot to take my meds.” For 9.5 years, I’ve exhausted the list of anti-anxiety, anti-depression, mood stabilizers, anti-psychotics, ADHD medications, benzos, and some others that I’m not entirely sure what category they fall into besides the “I feel like a sociopath” category. 9.5 years of side effects and reliance. 1 seizure, 1 overdose, several medication-induced manic episodes, days of withdrawal if I really did forget to take my morning Klonopin, weeks of not eating anything, my weight fluctuating between 100 and 135 lbs, nights fighting with my Dad because I legitimately forgot to take my meds, nights fighting with my mom because medications would make me a mess, days I had to be pulled out of school because I would start crying for no reason, 9.5 years of constant fluctuation of who I thought I was, what was wrong with me, going from on top of the world to begging the universe to let me die while I sleep.

I’ve haven’t been just me in 9.5 years.

And now it’s almost done. I’ve spent years jumping from medication to medication trying to find my cure, but really, I was just trying to find a band-aid. If there’s anything I’ve learned, it’s that medications will not cure you, they will not fix you, and ultimately, they will not help unless you are actively trying to help yourself.

It’s liberating, really. While medications are convenient, they also get in the way of everything. Way too many trips to the pharmacy, too many phone calls to get refills, time wasted in doctor’s offices every month, needles stuck in my arm to get monthly blood testing. And now I can say I never have to do this again.

So that is basically why I haven’t written in a month. I’ve been re-learning how to be human, how to feel emotions somewhat appropriately, and looking all my fears and suppressed memories in the face and saying to them,

“I’m over you. Congratulations.”

*Special thanks to D for sticking with me through this hurricane. And to my few Foco friends who I have put off seeing because I’ve been a mess and I really will try harder to hang.

 

 

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frozen bread and trash cookies

So lately, I’ve realized how food and drink obsessed our society is. Like, whenever you want to go do anything, food or a drink is almost always involved. Getting dinner is a date. Hanging out with a friend to go grab a drink or two. It’s literally impossible to avoid food culture unless you’re a hermit like me who eats trash cookies (more on that in a bit).

This whole “getting sober” thing is one of the most impossible things. Alcohol is considered a “normal” part of everyday life. I can’t watch a single show on Netflix where alcohol isn’t involved and in the show, it’s totally normal. Even if a character drinks a lot, they’re not an alcoholic. They’re just quirky and a party person or depressed. I guess I fall in the latter. Ever realize how on almost every show, getting a drink after work is a daily thing and no one even questions it? It’s not alcoholism. It’s just socializing. Well, I wish it was that easy. I wish I could just “go out for a drink” after work to decompress, socialize, whatever.

The media sets these unrealistic expectations of both men and women when it comes to eating and drinking. Characters on tv don’t think twice about knocking back a 6pack every night, or having a Ben and Jerry’s binge, yet if I do that, I’m looking at getting plastered and depressed or consuming a disgusting amount of calories. What people do on everyday television, I feel like I have to go on the elliptical for an hour afterwards because I’m not trying to pack on unnecessary weight. For people like me who have a weird range of some type of body dysmorphic disorder/exercise bulimia/anorexia etc., being around people or socializing or seeing anything that has food or drink involved is a total trigger. I see the beautiful, skinny, healthy women in shows sipping dirty martinis and all I can think about is how badly I miss that crisp, saltiness of an extra dirty vodka martini, but knowing that I can’t drink, and the calories aren’t worth the amount of exercise I did that day.

But yeah, I do have the weirdest eating habits. I became aware of the fact that I’m definitely what has come to be known as “freegan,” in which I only eat food that’s free. Ok sometimes I pay for food. I hate paying for food because I’m still not working yet and I’m kind of broke. So when your roommates throw perfectly good cookies in the trash, you fish them out. They were wrapped in two bags and I don’t feel bad about eating these “trash cookies” that were going to be wasted anyway. Also have you ever eaten frozen bread? I’ve gotten to a point where whenever I buy a new type of bread, I have to see if it’s good frozen or not. Some breads just aren’t as good as others. Like, some breads just taste stale when they’re frozen or some are still weirdly fluffy and just taste cold. I can defend my habit of eating frozen bread: the butter doesn’t melt and it’s like eating toasted pita.. but cold. It’s fine when you dip it in soup because it just becomes soggy either way.

Have you ever eaten a cookie while falling asleep? Drank your coffee on the toilet? Eaten soup or beans straight from the can? Left the fig newtons open so they’ll become stale and crispy? No? Okay, it seems I really am the only one here. I swear I can defend all of these statements. But then again, I just like food, and I’m a binge eating exercise bulimic so maybe I should have thought about that when I made my new year’s resolutions.

But I have gone back on my sobriety stint and it’s been almost 4 days. A rough 4 days. I’m at the point of wanting to ditch Netflix, pour out all of the alcohol I have in my apartment and just going back to eating trash cookies and becoming a tea addict* (I’m pretty sure drinking a whole bottle of wine has more calories than eating a bunch of cookies, let’s be honest). And okay, I actually did do some of that. I poured out the rest of the Jose Cuervo that sat on top of my fridge and actually made a point of opening and pouring out an entire beer. Can I REALLY ditch Netflix though? How else do you think I do 50 minutes on the elliptical every day?

Society, you’re killing me. I’m climbing back down the rabbit hole and drinking tea with my real friends. They don’t have croissants there either. Just a lot of blanket forts and tea parties.

img_3087In case you ever wanted to know what $15 tea looks like. Dead soggy flowers.

*some teas are basically drugs. And it tastes good. If I’m a junkie for herbal teas then so be it. And yes I bought a $15 bag of tea yesterday because I’m just going to assume it’s like wine or beer and the more expensive it is, the better it is. Let’s just leave that there. Tea Addicts Unite. Tea Addicts Anonymous (TAA)?

 

 

there’s no passion in sobriety

Yeah, so I did give up drinking as my New Year’s Resolution. I finally figured it’s time to kick it to the curb and go American History X on it. Wow that got racist fast.

Anyway, it’s been 6 days so I finally just decided, hey, I can do just one glass of wine. I deserve it for reasons xyz (REASONS INCLUDING THAT I GOT A REAL JOB FINALLY). And for the record I’ve been nursing this one glass for the past hour. But as I’ve been drinking this, and really wanting another glass/the whole bottle, it made me realize something: I can’t find passion without altering my brain, whether that’s smoking or drinking or whatever.  Continue reading “there’s no passion in sobriety”