zoloft

Evening Reflection 012: Queue Discontinuation

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Daily Summary:
I woke up today after sleeping decently. Not awesome, but decent. I’ll take decent. 

I’ve sold the twin bed frame that I had along with two storage things I bought from Walmart a while ago. I haven’t been using those things and with moving on the horizon and finances not being the best I figured I would get rid of some stuff and try to make a buck. It’s been helpful. 

Work has been alright. Got a 95 on a call. Mildly frustrating. I’ve also messed up my adherence at work a few times this week. Sort of ready for the month of February to be over and for March to start. 

Still no news about the application for the house. That’s annoying. 

I got my state and federal tax returns, so there’s that. 

I’ve also done a lot of digging into my credit and have game planed, sort of, with Ox about what things we’re going to try to tackle financially. 

I’m going on day four with no Zoloft, which will be the main focus for my ramble. Right now I’m trying to breathe through the not ok-ness. I think I’m succeeding. Tonight is also really hard and I’m trying to embrace the hard. If not embrace it, then at least acknowledge that it’s not permanent. This feeling inside my head, inside my skin, will pass and I’ll be back to normal soon.

I wish now was soon. 

Random Ramblings:
I feel like I’m experiencing discontinuation symptoms. I have a weird sense of balance. My skin feels weird. My mind is sort of foggy. It’s hard to focus. It’s been progressively harder to want to write which is why I haven’t for a few days. I get headaches off and on and there’s nausea at times. 

It… I don’t know. Sucks seems too harsh. I have definitely been through worse. But it’s not “fine” either. 

I feel my emotions more intensely. I feel like crying with some of the information I gathered today. I feel trapped by my debt. I feel like I’m playing at being an adult and I’m never actually going to be one. 

I did consolidate my student loans and filled out the application for a repayment plan. At least I’ve been proactive with that. The covid forbearance is going to end soon. At least there’s an affordable game plan for that one area in my financial world. 

I want to cry. Maybe I will. Maybe I just need a really good cry after figuring out so much today. After talking to so many people today. 

I have my dentist appointment tomorrow. Next week starts my Eqip camp that I found out… Tuesday? That means my workdays will start at 8am instead of 12:30. It means I’ll get done with work at 4:30pm. So I can go to the house and spend the evenings with Ox. There are silver linings to the things in my life which are causing friction. 

I’m doubting myself. What if I can’t be off of the Zoloft? What if my brain can’t function the way it used to before I started taking the medication? What if these sensations don’t go away, or last for months like some people report? What if I’m a failure at life and I’ll never be able to recover from stupid choices? What if my whole life is a mistake? 

I know it’s not. God fucking damnit you evil son of a bitch of a voice inside my head. I know my life isn’t a mistake. I know I am not a mistake. I know things aren’t falling apart and I know I’ll most likely feel better after I sleep. So why? Why am I feeling like this? 

Maybe I shouldn’t have tried to write. I don’t think it’s helped me feel better. At least the emotions and feelings are out there. Everything is fine and yet I’m not ok. And it’s ok to not be ok. I’ll get through it. I have before. I can today; tonight. I can tomorrow, too. 

I can do this. I’m just going to throw a fit and have a cry-fest while I do it. #INFJ

Daily Post 005: Prescription Refill

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Today is the first time in ages where I have woken up and felt awake. I’m not deathly tired. I didn’t go back to sleep after haphazardly stumbling to use the restroom. It’s such a weird feeling… feeling rested… that I don’t really know what to do… so here I am, sitting in front of my computer, trying to figure it out.

I think there’s a lot that factors into this “rested” feeling. The main one, I think, is medication related.

About three weeks ago I ran out of my Zoloft. I didn’t think much of it. I would get around to refilling the prescription “eventually”. I had stopped taking it before when I was on 25mg and I didn’t notice any side effects so I would be alright…

Wrong.

So hardcore wrong. Omg. >.<;

My dose was increased to 50mg towards the end of last year. My doctor increased it due to my suicidal feelings during nursing school. So queue up discontinuation syndrome about three days after being off of said medication. God, it sucked so hardcore. Mood swings, insomnia, fatigue, depersonalization… which I didn’t know actually had a term.

That feeling where you know you’re not yourself… but you are… but you aren’t… None of the thoughts you are having are really yours, but you’re the only one inside your head so they must be your thoughts… your actions… your feelings… That feeling of having your body hijacked but you’re the one doing the hijacking so how do you stop it or change it?

That feeling where dreams seem halfway real and reality seems halfway fake. You know you’re awake but your skin feels different. Everything is sort of soft, cloudy, hazy… You’re detached and you know you are but you can’t find your way back…

I spent over a week feeling like that. Like I would never be myself again. That these feelings were the rest of my life.

I got the prescription refilled. Making that phone call left me exhausted. Picking up the phone, finding the number, talking to someone and explaining that was going on… I wanted to cry I was so tired.

The next day I picked up the prescription. I then had to wait another week before the meds starting to build up in my system again. Each day got progresively better. I started being able to sleep at night. I started having focus at work again. I started feeling like reality was actually real.

Each day I have felt myself become more balanced. I get closer to being the me I remember being… the me I want to be. The me who has drive and disciple to do things. The me who doesn’t get exhausted by putting laundry away or making a phone call.

I do think a major factor of this past month being hard is the whole med issue. I’ve been more diligent with my Synthroid which continues to be something I struggle with. I finally set up an appointment with my endocrinologist. I have a blood draw tomorrow after work. My appointment with the doctor is next Wednesday. We’ll see if the increase that was made towards the end of last year was/is enough for my blood levels.

Yeah… I was supposed to meet with her in January and never did… There’s a lot of things that I haven’t been doing or have been pushing off. It’s been easier to not do them. Easier to stay inside, away from people, sleeping through the hard and the hurt of winter and mom’s death.

Mom’s fifth death day has come and gone. There’s a whole story behind that. I still haven’t gotten mom her flower. I don’t feel as bad about that as I thought I would. I think a lot of that has to do with Jon and I going out together on the day of her death. We went to Red Lobster, on of her favorite places. We drank and ate and shared stories back and forth. Memories. Emotions. Fears. We laughed. We had tears stinging our eyes. We remembered her together, shared in her memory together, and I think that would have made mom happy. Happier than me buying a flower to mark another year I have survived without her.

I will still get her flower. It’s still important to me. But I think where ever mom is, she knows that it’s ok to be a little late because what ended up happening instead was so much better than what I could have hoped for.

I haven’t been to the gym in a while. I have a membership to the YMCA again. The constant tiredness and consistent depression/apathy has kept me from actually going and doing anything. When I think about packing up my stuff, or changing, or driving, or scanning my card… I feel drained. I feel crushed beneath all of the steps it would take to actually get there, let alone actually working out.

I’ve continued to not eat the best because it’s so much easier to have a cookie or chips than it is to make a meal. But all of that is slowly starting to turn around. I feel like I can go to the gym today. I want to go to the gym today. I want to bike and listen to music. I want to push past all of the anxiety of “what if I’m not good enough?” I know I’m good enough. I know in a week, in two weeks, I’ll be so much better endurance-wise than I am in this current moment. I’ll feel better about myself. I’ll have an outlet for the stress and frustration of work.

Going will help me in so many ways, and while I haven’t done it, haven’t wanted to do it… today is different.

Part of me is scared of the difference. I’ve been… “not me” for so long that I don’t really know what to do. How do I function in the now? How do I function today with these weird feelings of productivity and energy?

And a guess a big part of my problem has always been this aching and longing to be “the old me”. The me before mom died. I know I wrote about it before. About how I need to accept the me I am now. That I can’t go back to who I was before mom died. Too much has happened. Too much has changed. The old me can still be valued and cherished, but I can’t keep expecting myself to be something I no longer am.

I’m not 27 any more. And that’s ok.

So I think that’s going to be my internal project going forward. Accepting the me of today. Not the me who went to the dojo six days a week for 1-3 hours each time. No the me who was unemployeed for a year. Not the me who was a teacher. I want to be ok with the me of today. I want to go forward with current me rather than constantly pining for someone who doesn’t exist anymore.

I am worthy. I have value. I can and will do amazing things. Starting with a to-do list. After writing I’m going to open up my Clever Fox notebook and I’m going to figure out a handful of things. And then I’m going to go to the gym and bike in front of the windows where I can see the sunny day while I listen to music. And then Ox and I will have lunch and get some of the things we need to finish up “Project-Remodel the Bedroom”.

Today is my only day off from work this week. I’ve picked up a lot of extra days recently. I’m sure that feeds into the burnout and compassion fatigue. The depression and “anti-people” feelings. After this week I don’t have extra days. After this week I get to spend a week with my dad because he’s coming to visit. I get to have my three days off in a row where I can make progress on projects and the house and myself.

I think after this week it will be nice and I’m going to start with today because finally, for the first time since starting nursing school, I feel like I can.

Daily Post 186: Day 2

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I didn’t sleep well last night. I think a lot of that has to do with this cold thing I’m still contending with. I spent the majority of the evening feeling like I needed to sneeze and being unable to. My nose was hypersensitive. The feeling of air moving through my nasal passages was borderline painful. Hard to get rest like that…

I did manage to fall asleep a handful of times. Ox stayed the night with me. It was comforting to be able to be in bed next to him; to reach out and touch his shoulder or rub my foot against his. The night might not have been the most restful, but it was a decent night despite my sleepless, sneezeless misery.

Ox and I shared a cigarette this morning before he left for work. I was able to go back to sleep for about three hours afterward. I feel relatively fine. Not tired and exhausted. Still under the weather. Finally, blessedly, I’m starting to sneeze. The sinus pressure that was making my teeth ache is subsiding. Overall, I feel able to do the few things I have planned for the day.

I’ve already taken my second dose of Zoloft. Taking it in the morning will be easier for me to do rather than in the middle of the day. So far I haven’t noticed any side-effects.

I did talk to one of my coworkers who is on this particular medication. She said that I need to give it at least two weeks. In the beginning, my mood may fluctuate as the Zoloft builds up in my system. She said she would be ok with reaching out to me and checking in with me. Her advice is to give the medication time and to not give up on it too quickly.

With my effort to write and reflect and the amount of people who promise to let me know if they start seeing issues… I’m a bit more ok with extending my one week trial run to two. It doesn’t seem like the eternity it did yesterday afternoon.

I don’t think the medication has had time to really do anything for me or to me. I don’t think I have energy and willpower today because of it. I think a lot of it has to do with all of the conversations I had yesterday and the general feeling that I’m not alone. Ox and I were also able to have sexy time yesterday. I’m sure that is a huge factor to the feeling of connectedness that I feel; the okness.

He still calls me his good girl. He still says I’m his. I told him inside my head my Evil Voice was saying that I’m on medication and have cancer.

Ox: And you’re still mine.

All of the warm fuzzy feelings.

I have a handful of things I want to get done at the apartment before going in for counseling today. I plan to use my to-do list. I like the thought of using it.

I’m ok with today so far. I’m ok with yesterday, too. So far, I’m ok with ok.

Daily Post 185: Post Pre-Op

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I had my pre-op appointment today. I’ve smoked way too many cigarettes between then and writing this. I can tell because my body is pissed at me. Fuck you, body. That’s what you get for having cancer.

I suppose to some people that type of humor isn’t appropriate, but it’s getting me through my day, so there’s that.

My surgery is cleared. I had some blood work done before leaving so they can check for anemia and such. I spent the majority of my forty-five-minute appointment crying. It started with my primary physician coming in and asking how I was doing.

Seriously. Fuck that question. >.<

I mean… I appreciate it. I truly do, but if you want to open the floodgates of my emotional reality, that’s how you do it.

I told her about my diagnosis. I finally got to tell her thank you. Because of her care, we were able to find out about my cancer and to take the needed steps to remove it. I told her how the past month or so has been hard and getting progressively harder as the surgery date gets closer. I told her about the night I looked up overdosing, how I’ve been going to counseling, how Ox and I have had more open communication.

I told her about my nightmares and fatigue and how silly, stupid, “normal” things feel overwhelming. Crushing. I told her how I understood this wasn’t a forever type of situation but how everything post-surgery felt so nebulous and far away and unknown and that post-surgery is where I feel like I will struggle even more.

She asked if I was opposed to taking something for depression and anxiety. My reply was I felt like taking medication would be treating symptoms rather than addressing the root cause of the issues.

She understood my perspective. She also countered with relating mental and emotional health to a viral cold. When you have a cold there really isn’t anything you can take to make things “better”. You have to let the body work itself out. You can take decongestants, or Tylenol to lower a fever, but nothing is going to make the cold go away faster. The meds help you function for those 10 or so days where you feel like crap.

They help you sleep at night. They help you breathe easier. They help keep the sinus pressure bearable so you can still go to work even though you most likely shouldn’t but bills are a thing and so off to work you go to infect all your coworkers…

She thinks it would be a good idea for me to start taking Zoloft. It would be one of the lowest doses. 25mg. One tablet every day. It will take about three weeks for it to build up to a consistent level in my system.

It won’t be a miracle pill. It won’t make me bright and sunny and happy. It won’t make unicorns gallop under colorful rainbows with pots of gold at the end. In theory, it WILL help me think clearer and calmer. It will help keep me from having as many super-low days.

There’s a whole list of side-effects that it could have; one of them being worsening suicidal thoughts not to mention the lowered blood pressure leading to dizziness and falling down. Let me tell you how much it would suck to fall down while I’m trying to cannulate a patient…

So… I now have a choice…

I can keep going as I am, struggling and feeling like I’m not doing well and that I’m constantly falling into a hopeless pit of despair. Or… I could try taking a medication that may or may not make things worse.

I’ve talked to Ox pretty extensively about it. He’s hesitant for me to start taking Zoloft when I’m about to begin taking Synthroid after the surgery. I share those concerns. I feel like it will be hard to tell which medication is doing or not doing what.

I spoke with my FA pretty extensively about the situation, too. She thinks it would be good to try it.

Both Ox and my FA agreed to be a safety net for me. If they begin seeing behavior that “isn’t me” they will let me know. They also agreed to check in with me to see how I’m doing emotionally. A lot of that will hinge of me being honest about how I’m feeling, something I’m not always the best at…

Both Ox and FA agree that beginning to write daily again could help gauge emotional stability and track emotional changes. It would allow me to reflect on myself and to be aware of how the medication may or may not be affecting my thoughts.

I think going back to my daily to-do lists would also be beneficial. I don’t have to make endless pages of tasks, but I could give myself one or two things to start with. That’s it. Just those two things. It could help give some sort of structure and stability to my day and give myself a visual representation of what my day was like. This day I got all of this done. This day was harder but I got these things done. This day was fantastic and I got all of this done. My to-do lists would let me track my energy a bit easier, a bit clearer, than what I might get from purely writing.

I’m scared to try this medication. I’m scared of surgery. I’m scared of the unknown. On the flip side, I do think I have a strong support system full of people who care about me and who will look out for me.

Ox and I agreed we will give it one week; one week to see if things get worse. If they do, I stop. If not, we give it one more week. If it gets worse, I stop. If not, one more week and so on and so on.

The one-week method seems doable. It gives me a clear, defined timeline to track and measure for improvement or decline, not just in mental and emotional status, but general health. Am I having GI issues, drowsiness, insomnia, panic attacks, or any of the other number of potential side-effects, and if I am, do the pros, if there are any, outweigh the cons?

So yeah… One week. I will give it one week.

I will write a quick note each morning about how I feel, emotionally as well as physically. How did I sleep? How do I feel about the coming day? Is my stomach upset? Do I have an appetite or no?

When I get home I’ll write another note. How did the day go? How did I do physically, emotionally? How do I feel about sleeping and waking up for the next day?

So, today, at 2:30 PM, I am taking my first pill, my first dose, of Zoloft. It is one week and 12 hours before my surgery. I have an army of supporting people who love me. I WILL survive this situation.

This begins my one week. I’m nervous yet at the same time desperate enough to try this method. Other’s can only help so much. I know I would benefit from help internally, if just until things settle down and normalize to the new normal that will be my life post-surgery.

This isn’t for forever. This is for right now. We don’t look down on people taking a pain med when they have broken bones. This is my first step towards not looking down on myself for taking a medication for my mental health.

I love you, self. Forever and for always, I’m here for you and we’ll get through this together.