I don't know the answer to that, so I hope you weren't expecting to see the answer :)
On Tuesday I had the pleasure of seeing Michael Lansberg speak about mental illness at a fundraiser (which is what I originally wanted to talk about, but I think I need to tell my story first. I talk about mental illness all the time, but I don't think I've ever really told my whole story... unless of course you're in my family or one of my pscyhologist/psychatrists, then you probably don't totally know it).
I'm currently in early recovery from my third major episode of mental illness in the past 10 years (first in Decmeber 2003, second in November 2008, third in April 2012). This third "episode" (or whatever you want to call it) has been particularily rough on me. I know the cliches... life's a journey, you'll always be learning, happiness is a journey, blah blah blah. But actually understanding them and knowing them in your core is a completely different thing from hearing them said and conceptually knowing.
I spent all of 2011 weening off of Effexor. Getting off Effexor is not a walk in the park. I started it in November 2008 when I was in a very very low and dark place. I wasn't functioning, was unable to leave my house, was constantly scared that I was going to die every second of every day. Sound irrational? Good, because it was. I was working from a very tiny little spot in my brain that only works in irrational thinking.
Effexor. Is it good? Is it bad? Hard to say. I struggled going on medication then because didn't medication just mean you were weak? Aren't meds over prescribed? A quick fix to help you ignore what's actually going on? These are still thoughts that play in my mind... Are meds over prescribed? Yes, they are. Is it a quick fix to help? Kind of, but in some cases it might be the only fix. I know deep in my soul that there was nothing but medication that could take me from where I was in November 2008 and make me function again. Effexor saved my life. I still think it's kind of evil, but it did save my life.
Fast forward two years. I'm feeling great. I am living a great life. I am happy, I am healthy and things are great. I've gained 50 pounds from the meds and I've got horrible acne from the meds, but I feel good. I feel so good, I'm ready to get off the meds (yes, looking back on this I see how niave it is... at the time, it didn't feel niave).
I believe that Effexor has more withdrawal side effects than taking it side effects. Every time I'd lower the dose I'd go through some sort of mental distress... depression, increased anxiety, kind of manic... you name it, I felt it throughout 2011. The last month was the worst. Heart palpitations, night sweats, these weird feelings of being in a full out panic attacks but only feeling the physical symptoms, no mental symptoms... it was just not fun. But Christmas Day 2011 was my last day. I noticed the constant ringing in my ears shortly after that. Turns out Effexor is a drug that is ototoxic, which means: Having a toxic effect on the ear or its nerve supply. Let me tell you, constant ringing in the ears is enough to make a "normal" person go crazy.
So, here we are... mid-April 2012. Not even four full months since getting off Effexor. Wait, let me say, January and February were awesome. I still felt great. Life was good AND I was off Effexor. I was losing weight faster than I put it on, my skin was clearing up (I no longer had skin that looked like it belonged on a 15 year old going through puberty). And I felt great. And I felt like my anxiety was gone. I was all better. It was something that had happened, and it was gone. I was cured.
But here we are, April 2012. I am not good. I am not functioning. And this time it's different. I can leave the house, I'm not scared. I can be in lines at stores, I can drive my car. I'm not scared. I just don't want to. I don't want to do anything. I don't want to watch TV. I don't want to read. I don't want to go for a walk. I don't want to work. I don't even want to lay in bed. I don't want to be. Every second I'm thinking of how my ears are ringing and now it's ruining my life. Of how I'm not going to be able to get through this day. How can I possibly sit through a day listening to my ears ring. I have to say that from here my thoughts would spiral and spiral and spiral.. they'd become darker and more irrational. But I couldn't make it stop. Long story short: emergency room, psychatrist, new medication.
I've been taking my Cipralex for almost four weeks now. I feel.... better. I don't feel great. I feel good-ish. I feel better. What I know now, that I didn't know two months ago even, is that my anxiety is not gone. Not only is it not gone, it's best friend depression is also around. What I know now, is that it will never be gone. I want it gone, so I'm still working on accepting the fact that it won't go away. I don't want to "deal" or "cope" with a mental illness, I just want it gone. But it's an illness. Illnesses don't just go away. I've also realized that I "deal" and "cope" with having celiac disease every second of every day in my life, but it's just not that big of a deal anymore because I'm used to it.
I wonder if I will get "used" to my mental illness?
I know this....
I am leaps and bounds from where I was in November 2008. I have grown as a human and a spirital being in ways I didn't think I could. I know my journey and evolving is on going (however... just because I know, doesn't mean I fully understand and accept). I know I have a mental illness. I know I can feel great. I know there will likely be times when I am irrational and I think my world is ending and that I will never ever possibly feel good again. I know it's scary. I know that I am sick, I'm not weak (stole that from Michael Lansberg, and I like it). I know it's hard for others to understand, because I don't understand everyone else's mental illness either. But I know I will feel great and life will be great and that better days are ahead (hello cliche).
Talk about it. That's really all you can do.
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