hendelar

sometimes you just gotta' row

Archive for December 2017

unscrewing

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A friend asked “Where are you?” Choosing to answer in a geographical context provided an opportunity to avoid an honest response that would get beyond the veneer. I’m not a fan of veneer yet have hid behind it too frequently, setting up even more conflict.

Now entering year four of recovery from c-PTSD effects, including anxiety and major depression, I’ve been weaning off Paxil, an anti-depressant of the Selective Serotonin Reuptake Inhibitor (SSRI) class of medications.

Stuff worked sort-of-but-not-really for awhile – after waiting for three years to see a medication-managing psychiatrist, we gradually increased dosage until reaching the maximum. Nasty, head-exploding stupidfication complete with hallucinations and, a questioning-the-point-of-anything experience at the outer limits of dosage.

Withdrawal has been worse.

It’s been thirteen days since day zero, the final stage of the titration process, the point in time when I took no Paxil. Sure, my appreciation for life has improved since then. It’s all relative.

Violently unwinding the psyche from a constant state of tortured consciousness, where every experience in every modality, feels better than whatever it has been but worse than I thought it could be. Time between now and the next moment overflows with dread. Often horrific.

Mostly, I meet the morning with a snarl while untangling from the night’s twisted sheets, taunted by a foe unseen though felt like damp cold. Sometimes sleep doesn’t arrive at all. Other times it’s interrupted by intense images that feel like someone else’s nightmare.

One re-occurring apparition appears upon mid-sleep awakening, in the form of a shadowy figure who is removing a revolver from his shoulder-holster. Feels like waking up saved an execution. I’ve reached a point of disgust where I resent being woken.

I know nothing will last forever. It’s nothing less than a vicious war of attrition between the horror of this vile concoction and my ability to endure. While the efficacy of effects lessen, so does my reserve of will.

The good doctor has another SSRI, Trintellix (Vortioxetine), queued up. This one newer, better, brighter and, with more prescriber promotional points for the doctor as the manufacture makes efforts to get this one up into the revenue stream.

Not for me. I am so done with SSRIs and SNRIs. The stuff still isn’t understood by the chemistry / healthcare community. Neither are the many neurological and biological systems impacted by its usage. It’s so important to the decision-making process to remember these “medicines” are not sold to benefit healthcare but rather to add to the corporate revenue stream and increase value for shareholders.

While I have several elements of an overall approach to dealing with the PTSD and its ugly friends, for now I’m focusing on surviving the act of withdrawing from the medicine. The irony bends time and space.

Glad I was able to scrape some of the shrouding. Only the truth can be fixed.

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