It’s been months since I’ve written in this blog. I was using the excuse that I had nothing to write, or that I didn’t have the time. I know though, that the only real barrier was and always will be myself and my ego. My fear of being judged, or somehow letting someone down is often a roadblock to me feeling confident enough to authentically write. On the same token, this uncertainty and self-conciousness also fuels me to want to write; to want to speak my piece as a means to hopefully inspire others to do the same.
“If we start being honest about our pain, our anger, and our shortcomings instead of pretending they don’t exist, then maybe we’ll leave the world a better place than we found it”
-Russel Wilson
As I was writing this title, my stomach turned. 20 years…. 20 years I have faithfully (and sometimes not so faithfully) taken the same SSRI, otherwise known as a selective serotonin reuptake inhibitor. Why? Lots of reasons. Many of those reasons consist of letters grouped together that are somehow supposed to define me; PMDD, SAD, GAD, MDD. Other reasons spark from previous unhealthy relationships, traumatic experiences and the like. From a scientific standpoint I take them to keep my brain functioning properly, keeping chemicals balanced and circuits running smoothly. The principal reason is much simpler and to the point: If I didn’t take my meds, I wouldn’t be here to write this today.
So the question becomes, why fix what isn’t broken? Unfortunately good things don’t always last forever, and meds can have an expiration date other than the one written on the bottle. Our brains are highly skilled at adapting, and eventually build up tolerances to some medications, especially those that affect the nervous system. This is called tachyphylaxis, but is also lovingly called “prozac poop-out”.
For me the decline was suddenly finding myself in a constant state of panic and anxiety. My body was exhausted from the physical tension I carried each day and I was mentally drained from my constant fight or flight responses dueling against each other in my head. After many discussions weighing benefits vs. risks, and much hesitation on my part, I tapered off my long time medication and introduced a new one. The first try was a no-go and I switched again. I’m a few weeks into my most recent medication and I’m struggling with spiraling into a deep depression. Is it because it hasn’t reached its full effectiveness yet? Is it not a good fit? Do I wait or sound the alarm right now?
Finding a good medication fit for mental health is largely a game of chance and gambling. I have no baseline because I have been medicated for most of my life. I do know for certain that my body needs assistance to fight off my demons, and I will continue to work towards finding the right help.
To all my amazing friends who randomly text me to say hi or check on me…I love and appreciate you. I am just not myself right now, and haven’t been for some time. I’m not trying to ghost you. I haven’t replaced you. I just don’t have the energy or mental capacity to talk to anyone. My goals have become over simplified at this point. Get out of bed. Take care of my family. Do the best I can at my career, and survive each day.
Choosing our paths in life is a crucial step toward feeling fulfilled in our jounery. I will choose to live without shame of my mental illness. I will choose to live authentically. I will choose to be emotionally vulnerable, not as a means of self destruction, but to ensure humility and compassion toward others.
The Anxious Empath 