Wow. Three weeks with no psych meds.
Three weeks of applied dysfunction in inaction. I’m not going to complain, though. While diligently taking all of my meds, I have been just as dysfunctional for the past 14 months. No forward progress, but no backward progress either. Stagnation is always highly attractive, I guess; or, at least I think so. I think that there is an aspect of stagnation in making beer, but I only think that. I don’t know a damn thing about making beer.
Physically, I am still crazy dizzy, and somewhat disoriented. A bit clumsier than normal, which is kind of sad because I’m fairly clumsy. I have not got anything to suggest that this is any worse than going off Effexor XR has been in the past. Mouth is dry (HAH! There’s a big surprise) I’m still twitchy and full of tics, and still chewing my tongue a lot. I am hoping that the twitches and tics will subside, but they are a known risk for several of the meds I have been on. Sometimes they go away in time, but sometimes they are quite permanent.
So, no physical surprises to report.
Not much mentally or emotionally either. In fact so far, the process is pretty boring. Largely, this is a pointless post. But I did promise some friends that I would keep them updated on the process. The process is boring. I am beginning to suspect that I have not actually entered the process yet. I think I have taken all of these pills so long that it is still going to be a bit of a wait before anything really changes. I still really do fear what those changes are going to be like. However, it is a really abstract fear-similar to being fearful of being bitten by a moray eel, which is fairly unlikely since I live in Pittsburgh and don’t go outside. Pretty sure that the bite of the moray would be the pits, but it is pretty irrelevant currently. (however, if I now have nightmares about being bitten by a moray, I’ll have no one but myself to blame)
In a way, I feel a little bit let down that nothing has happened. For years, doctors have stressed how bad going off your medication can be. How sick you got, prone to violence, suicide, self-mutilation, how quitting these medications can lead to brain damage. The list of what would happen seemed endless. And I’ve certainly changed meds before and gotten the Hell transitions from it. I was mentally ready to fight. The reality is feeling like you got worked up to enter a UFC fight, stepped into the ring and discovered that your opponent was a spoonful of runny instant mashed potatoes. Well, huh.
I assume that I won’t walk out of this without a struggle. And it is pretty certain that there are going to be some tough days, I won’t claim to be prepared, either. How the Hell do you prepare for something utterly unknown or unpredictable?
So it goes on. Sitting still in my dark room. Just living the dream. Or it would be living the dream-if I was a portobello.