Me 3.0 – Now With Triple The Effexor

Back in March I wrote about my ongoing struggle to manage my chronic depression and anxiety and how my doctor prescribed 37.5 mg. a day of Venlafaxine, the generic form of Effexor. 37.5 mg. is the lowest dosage, and for a while, it was enough.  Since I was first diagnosed with chronic depression in my 20s, my depression has always been seasonal. I needed medication from around October until around May and skip it in the summer.

 

Well, this past summer showed me that my depression is no longer seasonal.  Things were so bad this summer that I couldn’t even blog about it, because I was just trying to get from one day to the next.  I was a mess. I couldn’t sleep more than a few hours a night, which I know didn’t help.  I was just angry, all the time, about everything.  The slightest thing could set me off, I was yelling, and constantly bursting into tears.  And it took me WAY too long to ask my doctor for help.

It never even occurred to me that the problem was not enough medication.  There I was, fighting with my husband every day, constantly feeling like he didn’t understand me,  to the point where I was worrying that he would move out, or ask me to, because the fighting was unbearable.  I felt like I was in quicksand and sinking fast.

I hate that now I know that all I needed to do was take more medication.

The reason I had only been taking 37.5 mg. is because when I tried taking 75, it made me feel jittery, like I was crawling out of my skin. So I told my doctor about the fighting, and the crying, and how I just felt like something was wrong, but I wasn’t sure how I would feel if I took a higher dose. I didn’t want to end up chronically disheveled and hooked on internet bingo or something. I had been taking a 24-hour extended release capsule, but my doctor had a better idea.

She switched me to tablets that last 12 hours, and suggested I try taking one 37.5 mg. tablet in the morning, and then two 37.5 mg. tablets at night before bed, with the idea that the initial jittery feeling would happen while I was already asleep, so I wouldn’t notice it.  And people, it WORKED.  In a way I never ever expected.

By the beginning of the second week of the new regimen, I realized I no longer felt anxious all the time.  Not only did I stop feeling like I was sinking into a hole I wouldn’t be able to get out of,  I felt…normal.  Like, this is what normal, non-depressed, non-anxious people feel like.

I stopped assuming that every glance and gesture from my husband was some sort of personal slight. I stopped bursting into tears because something didn’t go right when I was cooking dinner.  It was like I woke up to my own life.  And something else happened that I never would have thought I just needed more medication for -

I’m losing weight. I’ve lost my craving for fast food and junk food.  I looked it up in Google, and the chemical Serotonin which is mostly found in the body’s gastrointestinal tract, contributes to feelings of well-being and happiness. Carbohydrates also increase the body’s serotonin level. I was trying to raise my own serotonin by overeating carbs like breads and crackers and chips.  Effexor helps my body use it’s own serotonin more efficiently, which means I’m no longer craving carbs.

I’ve lost just over six pounds in two and a half weeks.  I eat regular meals, but I don’t feel like snacking at all.  We had McDonalds for dinner last night as a treat for the kids, and it didn’t even taste all that good. I ate half a hamburger and half an order of small fries and that was enough. The old me would have eaten all of it and still had a snack later.

I’m sleeping much better at night, too.  I know I’m sleeping more deeply because I’m not having weird, vivid dreams all night long, and I can actually get right up when the alarm goes off. This is huge for me.  I’m trying not to beat myself up over the fact that all I needed to do to avoid all the hell I put my family through was tell my doctor and get a higher dose of Effexor/Venlafaxine.

I’m so lucky that Chris and the kids understand that it wasn’t my fault and have forgiven me for everything. And I know that medication doesn’t solve everything, I still need to figure out how to recognize when I need to ask for help.  And I’m so grateful that this dosage of Venlafaxine is working.  I’m so grateful that I’m out of the quicksand and living a real life.

 

 

 

Enhanced by Zemanta

Struggling.

Effexor XR 37.5mg / 75mg 2 weeks sample pack front

Image by gloom via Flickr

It used to be that when I saw a character in a TV show having a meltdown and it turned out that it was because they weren’t taking the medication they needed,  I would think to myself “jeez, how hard is it to take a pill every day?”  Hypocrite, thy name is Elizabeth.

I certainly don’t wake up in the morning and decide that I just won’t take my medication. The bottle sits on the kitchen counter in plain sight. But since we went down to one car, the days that I do have the car are spent running around trying to get errands done that can’t be done on Tuesdays and Thursdays when I’m house-bound.

For newer readers, back in February of 2007 I had three moderately severe anxiety attacks. My doctor changed my antidepressant to the generic form of the  antidepressant/antianxiety medication Effexor.  If I take it every day, the fog I would walk around in otherwise lifts, and I can participate in and enjoy life.  Problem is, I get to a point where I’ve been feeling good for a while so I start skipping pills. I’ll be okay for as long as a week, then I’ll realize the fog is creeping back in.

To make matters worse, we had a problem accessing our Health Savings Account.  Chris has money taken out of every paycheck, pre-tax, and deposited into an account that we can use to pay co-pays.  They mailed us new cards at the beginning of the year, and somehow, we lost them, so Chris called and asked for a new set to be mailed to us. Two months ago.

Now, I could pay out of pocket for a prescription refill and then fill out a form on the Health Equity website to be reimbursed, but a full 30 days of Venlafaxine is not cheap. So I’ve been having the Target pharmacy sell me two weeks’ worth of pills at at time,  and then I ran out of those. It’s a stupid excuse, I know. My mental health should be my top priority.

But come on, Moms know, it’s hard to make yourself the top priority when you have a husband who commutes and three kids and have to keep your blogs updated so the ad money doesn’t dry up and your daughter needs new pajamas to wear to the Read-In at school because it would be too embarrassing to send her in the worn out ones she normally wears and etc. etc. etc.

So, I’ve been struggling. That’s what’s been going on with me.

Enhanced by Zemanta

Stupid Social Anxiety

I want to be like everyone else. Or at least, I want to be the way I THINK everyone else is.

I want to be someone that other people want to be around.

I want people to be excited at the prospect of meeting me, of spending time with me.

I want to be invited, included.

I was okay right up through college. I had great friends in high school, we did everything together. College was a little trickier for me, but I got invited places, friends wanted to hang out with me.

I didn’t realize I had a problem until I hit my mid-20s and went to work at an office for the first time.

Everyone was nice to me, always, but no one, and I mean NO ONE, ever invited me out to lunch. Or for after work drinks.

Sure, they would chat with me in the elevator or at my desk occasionally, everyone knew about my pregnancies, about buying my first house.

But no one asked me to go on lunchtime walks or hit the mall after work for new shoes.

It bugged me, a lot. I tried to reach out, make the first move myself.

I invited a coworker from another department to lunch. We sat, we ate, we talked. *I* talked. A LOT. As usual.

It was the only time we had lunch together, ever.

After that, I just went down to the break room, found an empty seat, and watched Young and the Restless with everyone else. And tried not to talk. Keyword there being TRIED.

I couldn’t be quiet as a child, either. Every parent-teacher conference, every report card said the same thing. Good student, very bright, advanced reader, but can’t be quiet. Can’t stop talking.

Driving somewhere, my parents up front, me in the back, my sister asleep. Trying, TRYING with every fiber of my being not to talk. To just be quiet with my thoughts. Despite a sisyphean effort, I feel the words bubbling up. Must. Say. SOMETHING.

I have no idea why I am like this. Why it is almost impossible for me to be quiet. I can’t sit through a movie without talking, without making comments to Chris or Ryan or whomever is sitting next to me.

Last night, Nathan had a band concert. I sat next to my friend Patti, mother of Nathan’s friend Mike, whose husband Rick worked with Chris at EDS. Patti and I have always gotten along well, but she works as a nurse so we’ve only chatted briefly as I’ve dropped Nathan off at her house.

I could not stop whispering comments to her during the band concert. I knew I was doing it, I just could not stop.

And what started out as “hi, Elizabeth! How are you?!” turned into “okay, see you later” when the concert was over.

All I could think of on the drive home was why couldn’t I just shut up for 30 minutes?

What’s weird is, if I’m alone, I don’t talk to myself. I go to movies alone, restaurants alone, I sit here alone while Kaitlyn is playing in another room, and I don’t talk.

But put someone anywhere near me, and the words start coming. And coming, and coming. Wordy wordy words.

I think back to blog conferences and events. To the distinct lack of invitations to join anyone for dinner or go back to their room to hang out with a group. And I have to look at it from other people’s point of view – I do not shut up, I’m positive it annoys the crap out of people.

So, what do I do? I certainly don’t want companies to stop inviting me to their events because they think I’m some kind of freak. And I don’t want other bloggers to run the other way when they see me coming…because they think I’m some kind of freak.

I already take Venlafaxine for depression, anxiety, and panic disorder. Geez Louise could I BE more messed up? I can’t take a higher dose than I already do because when I tried, it made me jump out of my skin.

I’m afraid to tell my doctor that hey, I know you already are medicating me for anxiety, but I’m still anxious, HALP.

All I know is, I don’t want to be this way, if there’s anything that will help. I have many fine redeeming qualities, and I hate that they are overshadowed by my incessant blabbing. I think people would like me if I could just shut up long enough!

*sigh*. Sorry to be a bummer on a Friday, but I had to get this off my chest. Comments are open, feel free to throw your two cents at me.

Reblog this post [with Zemanta]

California Dreamin’-of the BlogHer Anxiety Variety

I am having the weirdest BlogHer-related dreams, I had no idea my subconscious was so anxious about it. Last week, I dreamed I was checking out of the hotel and I had like 15 minutes until I had to leave, and I was trying to pack all of the sponsor gifts into my suitcase. They were spread out all over the room and the more I shoveled them into my suitcase, the more there were.

Then, I got down to the lobby, and a bunch of bloggers were there loading their bags onto one of those rolling carts, and everyone had the SAME PURSE EXCEPT FOR ME. I wish I was kidding. Oh, and I dreamed I met Mir, except she didn’t look like Mir at all, she looked like Lindsay. I guess I’m worried about not recognizing people? If you didn’t click those links just now, you really need to. Both of those blogs are brilliantly written, and could Lindsay LOOK any hotter in that photo? YOWSA.

So, last night I had a different BlogHer dream, this time I was headed to one of the cocktail parties, walking in this big crowd, and everyone else was dressed like they were in a Vogue photo shoot, and I was dressed like, well, like I usually am, which is to say, not very well. Only in the dream I started sobbing about it.

Honestly, I do this to myself every year right before the conference, and it’s so silly. I have yet to have anyone say anything to me about my clothes or my accessories, either in person or behind my back. In fact, I have never read anything anywhere that dissed someone’s appearance at BlogHer. That’s the wonderful thing about BlogHer conferences, they are for EVERYONE. Short, tall, thin, fat, abled, disabled, rich, poor, dressed to the nines, covered in dried spit-up, and the best part? No one really cares! You know what’s important at BlogHer? Either 1. being a current blogger or 2. being interested in becoming a blogger. Seriously THAT IS ALL.

Now, does that mean I’m not agonizing a little over whether to bring the new purse I bought last weekend that is kind of huge and floppy and is the color of raspberry lipstick? Or whether to bring the big flowered City Tote with the leather straps that holds a ton of stuff but doesn’t zip closed? In addition to bringing the new fabric bag that I bought from The Sewing Mom which is orange and yellow with an adorable metal sunflower charm on the zipper and is the perfect size for just my wallet, cell phone, comb, and a lip gloss? Oh yeah, I’ve given it some thought all right.

But otherwise, the anxiety over silly things that aren’t important? That can stay in my dreams, thanks.