Free(ish)

Back in July I made the decision to stop my meds for OCD/anxiety.  I had been taking zoloft for several years and experienced very few side effects aside from the dreaded (and common) weight gain.  I started gaining weight almost immediately after going on the meds and gained 1 to 2 pounds a month, more months than not.  It didn't bother me at first, mostly because a few extra pounds seemed like a small price to pay in exchange no longer being batshit crazy.  The problem wasn't the few extra pounds -- it was how the few extra pounds insidiously turned into TWENTY-ONE extra pounds. 

Nothing kills a pharmacologically-induced sense of serenity like having to keep buying bigger pants.   So after gasping in horror at the moon-faced pictures of myself taken during our summer vacation, I decided to start weaning off the meds.  One of the risks associated with SSRIs is something called SSRI-discontinuation syndrome, which is a collection of icky symptoms that some people experience after stopping or reducing an SSRI.  Knowing this, I  weaned slowly and carefully over the course of about 6-weeks.  It still sort of sucked (albeit mildly, compared to some horror stories I've heard) --  I had bouts of dizziness, nausea, shakiness, and assorted other unpleasantries, but nothing unmanageable.

I wish I could say that being med-free was a piece of cake.  The good news is that I am no longer gaining weight, although it's become apparent that LOSING the weight will take some actual effort.  The bad news is that it's harder, MUCH HARDER, to manage my overall anxiety and intrusive thoughts without the meds -- although, to be fair, I am actually managing.  Just managing, but managing.  When I first weaned off, I was determined that I was going to feel exactly the same without the meds as I did with them.  In hindsight, that was a pretty stupid expectation, especially since it never occurred to me that I might need any help with the emotional aspect of the transition.  So, instead of letting my friends and family know I might be vulnerable and on-edge, and possibly needing a little support, I put every bit of energy I had into seeming as anxiety-free as possible.  I was terrified ask for help because I didn't want anyone to suggest that, perhaps, jettisoning the happy pills was a bad idea. 

It was exhausting.  When I wasn't reassuring everyone that I was fine (FINE!!!), I was fighting the compulsions that were starting to wiggle their way back into my consciousness.   Obsessions, some old, some new, began their familiar frenzied onslaught.  Everyday noises became nosier, and the daily messes became messier.  Keeping up the facade of FINE!! meant I had no where to turn for support or encouragement. 

I've been lonelier the past few months than I've been most of my adult life. 

Still, it's not been all bad.  After years of blunted affect, I'm happy to welcome back the full-range of emotions.  I had forgotten how deeply I feel things, how easily moved I am by the minutia of daily life.  My anxiety is more acute  now, but so is my connection to the world around me. 

My time on meds gave me a sense of detached perspective on my illness.  During those years, I gained a better understanding of what triggers and perpetuates a cycle of OCD.  While I may not always be able to control the presence of obsessions or intrusive thoughts, I can now use cognitive/behavioral techniques to keep from turning up the volume.   I have learned that sufficient sleep, regular exercise, and a good amount of solitude are absolute necessities.  I know that I need to surround myself with loving, compassionate, and supportive people and figure out how to be authentic with them, even when I'm not FINE!

For now, I will continue to work on keeping the demons at bay though exercise, healthy food, and a willingness care for myself with the same dedication and commitment I apply to everyone else. While I don't define myself in terms of mental illness, I've  also learned that I  can't live as though I don't experience it. 

Of course, none of these insights are guarantees that I will be able to remain med-free forever.  While the past few months have been a struggle, they don't even begin to compare to where I was when I started meds.  I hope I never see those days again.  Today though -- today I am managing and I have every hope that it continue to get easier.

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Just as an afterthought:  It still seems strange to me, even as my fingers are moving on the keyboard, that I would write about such a personal and intimate topic on a highly public platform where I have absolutely no control of who reads it or where and how the information is used. 

All I can say is this:  I know what it's like to be in the throes of mental illness.  I know what it's like to live in fear.  I know what it's like to feel ashamed, and I know what it's like to feel alone. 

I also know the blessed rush of relief after realizing that you're nto the only one who has suffered.  I know how it feels to be able to read someone else's story and say "yes!  yes!  me too". 

I know the feeling of liberation that comes from realizing it's not just you.   

So I write in hopes that I can contribute to one small moment of blessed relief for one person. 

I summon the courage to lay myself bare because I am not alone.  And neither are you.

Comments

[Kim Guelig]

You should be so proud of yourself. I have spent 6 months trying to wean from zoloft and unable. The anxiety is overwhelming to me. I am now trying Chinese herbs and hopes it helps. I have been doing acupuncture for about 8 months and find it to be incredibly helpful for the obsessive thoughts. Good luck on this journey!