This is the second time I have decided to quit anti-depressants, the first time I quit cold-turkey and that didn’t end quite so well. Within a few months I was back on them again in a desperate attempt to curb the panic attacks. I found out that if you don’t taper-off of them that your panic attacks can return even worse than they had previously been. So, this time, I did it the right way.

It took about 2 months to go from 50mg all the way down to 12.5mg then to none. I’ve been experiencing20+ symptoms, from “brain zaps” to diarrhea, sometimes all at once. But I’ve been successfully powering through that shit…until last night. Last night scared me, made me nervous, put some fear back into me that I just didn’t need.

When I first went on anti-depressants it was because of really severe panic attacks which were at their worst whenever I would try to go to sleep at night. I would lie down in bed, exhausted, ready to sleep, when bam, panic attack. So I would get up, pace around, drink some water, try to go to the bathroom, and then I would lie back down again. Sure enough, it would happen again. And again. All night, at least once an hour, leaving me with almost no sleep and feeling very fearful that the panic would never go away. Last night that old scenario played out again for the first time in over 2 years, leaving me worried about what’s going to happen tonight when I try to go to sleep again.

Maybe it was a fluke? But I am now 5 days with zero Zoloft in my system, and I can’t help but think that the tapering-off didn’t make a difference. I can’t help but think I am fucking doomed for life with this shit. I don’t want to be on any medication. So I am reading ways to handle this without the use of Xanax. At the top of the list, exercise. So today, I am doing an hour on the Gazelle and then when John gets home we are going for a walk. I’m taking my Omega-3/6/9 which is supposed to help tremendously with the side effects of withdrawal (which should only last for a couple more days) and I am journaling like crizayzee. 

Fingers crossed for an easy send-off into slumber-ville tonight.

I haven’t had it in me recently - to dig inside and pull something out. It’s all just been sitting in there collecting dust and rust and hard water stains. The good news is that my marriage is feeling better than it has in a long time. The bad news is that it may just be a figment of my imagination. I’ve begun doubting myself. Not intentionally and not even with gusto, but rather faintly and begrudgingly. I am not one to self-doubt, but with the withdrawals from psychotropic drugs, I just can’t tell exactly where the line is between real and side-effect. I just hope I keep feeling this way about our relationship and that I keep making steps towards feeling real again. Only 2 more weeks until the side-effects are *hopefully* gone. Cheers to final phases!

A little bit of now to remember this today

A little bit of now tucked away for a tomorrow

A little bit of now to keep the yesterdays away

A little bit of now to put a smile on my face

A little bit of now as a reminder to keep breathing

A little bit of now for when I’m feeling out of place

Woke up to my cat walking back and forth across me. Apparently his meows went unheard and he resorted to physical violence. I say that because I have a 20 lb cat and when he walks on you it feels like, what I call, a “watermelon on toothpicks”. It hurts. Anyway, it’s apropos for my life right now, being woken up by something, someone, who needs something. Who expects something from me. Food. The cat just wants food. I can’t blame him, but sometimes I just don’t want to be the one to have to do it. Trivial I know. But the whole point of this blog is to get it all out. I feel less depressed than yesterday, but still uncertain about what I want. I just want to know that I am not crazy. I want to know that I am not doomed to a life of feeling like I am hovering near myself. I often joke about being gay. Yet, it really isn’t a joke. I ask myself internally whether or not I actually am. If this whole disconnect I am feeling is because I’m really meant to be with a lady. But then I feel like at this point in my life I should know already. I have strong feelings for women. I have dreams of women. But that in itself does not make me gay. Of that I am pretty sure. But what if I am wrong? Note to self: Stop saying “at this point in my life”. Note to the universe: I want to stab Meg Whitman in the face. Either way, my shit’s all fucked up. One thing I am excited for, today, is to go walking alone again. While initially upon return from my walk yesterday I felt nothing, today I feel like it was a good thing. Only this time I will be sure to pee before I leave. I’m hoping it rains again, and it looks like rain again, but the forecast says it’s just going to be overcast. Maybe I can pretend it’s wet. I’m going to wait until I know for sure that I want to walk. I need to eat breakfast first though. I know it’s already 1:18 pm and that should have been taken care of by now, but that’s what happens when one sleeps until noon. Maybe that should be something I also work on. Waking up in the “morning”. What a concept.

I walked and walked and walked. In the rain, as far as I could until I had to pee. I should have just found a place to squat but I really didn’t want to stop walking. Had I not had to pee, I would’ve walked twice as far. Walking in the rain is one thing that always makes me happy. I can’t say that it did today.

As I walked past house after house I imagined feeling better. I imagined smiling. The smell of wet ground was soothing. My need to keep going was unsettling and confusing. All of this happening at once. I would feel like I was going to start crying but nothing came out. The sound of my breathing was all that I could hear. The sound of the noise inside my head only slightly muffled by each breath.

Everyone wants answers from me. They want to know what’s wrong. They want to know if I am okay. They tell me they love me and that they are there for me should I need anything. The only thing I want is to be left alone to figure out what I want.

As I reached the driveway to my house I checked myself again, thinking, do I feel better now? Did that 3 mile walk help me? The answer was no. I took a shower and still felt nothing. I sit here and write and still feel nothing. My husband walks in from work asking if I am alright. I have no answers. For myself, for anyone.

I keep thinking about the phrase “this too shall pass” and wonder if there’s any truth in that. I look down at my wedding band and wonder if there’s any truth in that either. Again, no answers. Just the overwhelming sound of what can best be described as a traffic jam in my head. Like someone has pressed pause, except I’m the one on pause, not the other way around.

Going pee is all I am sure I have to do.

I can’t stop crying. It’s raining outside and normally that makes me happy. But not today. Not yesterday. And I’m uncertain about tomorrow. Maybe it’s the meds I’m slowly weaning myself off of? But that’s just too easy an explanation for me. There’s something else going on inside of me. A disconnect between who I am and who everyone else thinks I am. I look down at my chest hoping to see a picture of what’s inside, but I see nothing. I see a swirling gray cloud around something I cannot make out. A cipher that cannot be decoded.

I am not what people see. I am not the life of the party. I am not laughing on the inside. I am not who you think I am. I have never felt this far away from the me I thought I was. My chest trembles as I think about that. My breath quickens. I sit and stare, waiting for something to make sense.

Is this what people refer to as a mid-life crisis? I’ve always thought that was bullshit. I still do. I don’t want anyone telling me what they think it is. It’s mine and I will get through it. No one knows anything and that’s fine with me because I don’t want to tell anyone anything. I want to sit here and try to wrap my head around who the fuck I am. And discard the person that people think I am.

The truth is, I’ve been ignoring a lot of things inside of me. The me inside of me. I’ve been stuffing these very words deep down for months and months. I haven’t written shit in almost a year. I’ve done this to me because I haven’t faced who I have actually become. Instead, I’ve been playing the part of me. The old me. And I’m cheating myself and everyone around me. I’m a fraud and a liar and I realize this.

Everyone, including my husband, thinks that I am so tough. Some people are even afraid of me. And I like it. I like to be feared because I think that keeps them far away from who I really am. And that would be fine if even I knew who I really was. But alas, I do not. What I do know is that I am tired. Tired of playing this part. Tired of being a wife. Tired of being part of a team. Tired of expectations. Tired of resentments. Tired of going to sleep and waking up to the same fucking day.

I am not tough.

I am human.

And I am trapped in this fucking box that I made for myself.

And I can’t stop crying.

Can’t stop crying.