Struggling.

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

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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.

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From clouds to sun to clouds again

Two weeks ago, I pulled myself out of the darkest place I had been in a long, long time, and called my doctor’s office for an appointment. I told first the nurse and then the doctor the same story-what I was feeling wasn’t my usual seasonal depression. I couldn’t sleep, or I slept too much. I was irritated by everything and everyone, all the time. And worst of all, for two weeks out of each of the previous three months, I had experienced PMS like nothing I had ever felt. I needed help.

Instead of re-prescribing Wellbutrin and Lexapro, she prescribed Venlafaxine, a generic form of the antidepressant Effexor.  That way, I would only have to take one pill once a day instead of two in the morning and one in the afternoon.  She handed me a sample pack with seven 37.5 mg.  pills and seven 75 mg. pills, and wrote me a prescription for six months of the 75 mg. dose.

The next morning, I took the first 37.5 mg. dose, and the next day and the next. By that third day, I realized that I felt, well, GOOD. I felt happy, and for me to feel happy for no reason is rare. I felt like getting off the couch and tackling cleaning projects, like taking Kaitlyn shopping, like getting dinner on the table by the time Chris got home. I felt AMAZING on that 37.5 mg. dose.

Then I started the second week at the 75 mg. dose. The first day, I noticed I was tired, yawning a lot. I’ve had an inconsistent sleeping schedule for years, so it’s not unusual for me to be tired during the day. The next day, I was still tired. By the third day, I was tired AND I felt irritated.  I stopped wanting to get off the couch.  It was like the cloud came back, and there was nothing I could do.

Last night, we took Kaitlyn out to eat for her birthday, then stopped at Macy’s to buy Chris a pair of pants. I had what I thought was a $50 gift card sent to me for hosting a giveaway. Kaitlyn would not behave in the store, she was running behind racks of clothes and then jumping out and yelling  BOO! for some reason.  Near where Chris was looking at pants, a lady was putting security tags on a rack of leather coats, and each tag had an alarm that she apparently had to test to make sure it worked. So, over and over, I was hearing this high-pitched screeching.  Kaitlyn wasn’t behaving, high-pitched screeching, Ryan was whining because he had homework to finish which he should have done after school instead of waiting until after dinner, oh, and at dinner, I was trying to take pictures but Nathan kept making faces and it was pissing me off.

Then I got to the register with Chris’ pants and a package of white tube socks for Ryan, well within the $50 limit of the gift card. The lady rings everything up and I hear her say something about $14.22.  I thought she was telling me that’s how much was left on the gift card, so I just stood there, waiting for her to hand me back the card. She said it again, $14.22.  I said great, I can buy a little something for myself- wait a minute, what?

What she was saying was that I OWED $14.22.  And in a flash I realized what had happened. The giveaway sponsor had sent me two gift cards- a $50 one for me, and a $25 one for the giveaway winner. There was nothing written on the outside of either card to indicate which was which. When I went to mail the card to the winner, I just grabbed one without remembering to check the balance.

I sent the giveaway winner the $50 card.  Which meant that not only did I pay out of pocket to mail her the card (I stuck it in a little box and paid for package tracking so I could be sure it would get there, $20.00), but it cost me $14.00 for a package of freaking SOCKS (what is up with that, Macy’s?).  That was pretty much the last straw for me.

Out in the parking lot, I started griping about messing up the gift cards, and how we had just spent $56.00 on dinner out, and now there went another $14.00, and Chris had just been paid that morning and we hadn’t even paid bills yet, and I was just stuck in this emotional place I couldn’t get out of.  Chris gave me a hug, and then said “maybe you should go back to that 37.5 mg. dose of that medication, it was working a lot better for you”. And I LOST IT.  We got into a stupid fight right there in the car, right in front of the kids.

When we got home, Chris let the kids into the house while I sat in the car, then he came back out and we sat in the car to talk. He told me that I wasn’t seeing how I was acting, but that my moods were swinging all over the place and that it was affecting everyone. There was more talking, and long story short, this morning I called the doctor’s office and left her a message that 75 mg. of this medication is making me WORSE than I was before it, and that I needed some help. I’m waiting to hear back on what she wants me to do.

I just want to feel happy again. I liked who I was when I was happy.

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It’s That Most Wonderful Time Of The Year Again

I’ve tried to deny it this year for some reason. I’ve tried to think that I can get through it on my own, thank you very much, no need to seek professional help or anything. But people, I can’t do it any more. It’s affecting my marriage, my relationship with my kids, and the very core of my mental health and well-being.

It’s time to call my doctor and get my annual Winter’s-A-Comin’ prescriptions for antidepressants.  PLURAL, I might add. It used to be that just one did the trick, lifted my mood out of black and ugly up into beigey-grey and tolerable.  But two years ago I told my doc that one wasn’t doing it anymore, so she added a second one.  Without them, I sink into a murky place of constantly feeling “sick”, feeling like everyone else is trying to hurt my feelings, feeling put-upon and underappreciated. I don’t like who I am when I get like this, and the people I love don’t either.