SLIDER

Monday, December 3, 2012

Tapering

"So you drowned your sorrows at the Dollar Store, where you bought a party hat, because you are sad your 70-year-old father got fired for yelling at the security guard? That's why you're crying?"

"Yeah, and because we made too much soup and dumped all that wasted food down the drain." Long pause. "So I guess this is me losing it."

I started tapering off sertraline, that's Zoloft for you non-psych folks, a couple weeks ago. I've been taking 100 mg of the SSRI for anxiety for nearly three years. I initially began the meds after our honeymoon in Kauai, where I was fearfully obsessed with tsunamis. It's funny, I know, but it's also serious. The fact that this level of fear, anxiety, and panic-inducing thoughts had enough power to influence my general state of being, but especially on vacation. In Hawaii. With my new husband? Well that was just too much. I made a decision then to talk to my doctor about meds and to also engage in regular therapy. The fact that I got in a car accident - one that was entirely my fault - and was overcome with self-loathing and inconsolable sobbing and unrelenting anxiety that prevented me from getting out of the car to speak to the police officers on the scene - that further solidified my need for real intervention.

Fast forward to today, and I haven't had a single panic attack since that time. I can't really say whether that's due to the Zoloft, or maybe to the year of weekly therapy, or to the combination of both. But I feel like a different person - a happier, more relaxed, very-nearly-anxiety-proof version of my old self. With it has come other changes - a messier house, a less svelte figure, fewer passion-filled nights with my hubby. But I've since been able to stay in bed and cuddle or laze around for hours. I can tolerate having misplaced items scattered across my desk. I don't freak out when a coworker has the flu. And I can fly on a plane without total reliance on Xanax or Valium. And I have very few, if ever, thoughts of tsunamis or germ warfare or meningitis outbreaks.

All that said, I never intended to be on an anti-depressant for life. We spoke with a neonatologist during pregnancy, who more or less validated my decision to be on a Class B drug. I didn't want to taper during post-partum. Or during my transition back to work. This last month, relatively stress free, seemed like as good of a time as any to learn whether I can function in the world without medication AND without panic attacks.

I first reduced to 50 mg daily for two weeks. And now I'm taking 25 mg for another two weeks. I generally feel fine, although I've found myself to be a bit sleepier, more emotional (Hallmark commercials make me weepy), and with daily bouts of diarrhea. And apparently, I can't finish a single project I start. Case in point - painting. See the following photos of my "bacon stripes," as Alex eloquently puts it. I just keep painting more patches of color, without ever committing to one final choice.

If spotty walls are the only price to pay for being drug- and anxiety-free, I'm totally game for being the chick with the "artsy" walls.







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