For any taking psych medications (or any medication, really) never quit cold turkey. Always consult your doctor so you can make a plan to slowly lower the dosage and get off the meds in a responsible manner, like the god damn adult you are.
I learned this lesson, as I must for most things, the hard way. No, I did not decide to stop taking my meds because I love them and they love. The long and short of it is my healthcare provider screwed me over and I had to get a new prescription and the whole thing resulted in no meds for Beth. For about 3 weeks. Which was less than fun.
There are the symptoms that everyone would expect. The return of the soul crushing depression, the panic attacks, all the normal stuff. And while this was deeply upsetting in way, it was a hullabaloo that I have lived with for 6 years, so it was ok. But the withdrawal symptoms extended far beyond the emotional turmoil. It was headaches, body aches, nausea, and these things called “brain zaps”which literally feel like electrical shocks to the brain. Brain zaps also made me dizzy and almost faint quite often. I was in a pretty shit mood through it all, which is saying something because I am a cynical pessimist on my best day. Let’s just say I did not murder anyone and I should be given a medal for it. Or at least a gold star sticker.
But, in the words of my new psychiatrist, who I love, “At least we know you still need them.” Yes we do, doctor lady. Yes we do.
I’m back on them now, and back up to dose, so I can finally go back to hating the truly important things that deserve hating. Like this god damn weather. Its dropped to the 40s during the day already and I hate it as much as I thought I would. I swear when I die and go to Hell (because there’s just no way I’m going anywhere else) I imagine something like this happening:
Satan: “I am stabbing you with a pitchfork, why are you smiling?”
Me: “Because it’s warm here.”
Satan: “Warm? You’re in Hell. Your flesh is literally melting.”
Me: “Well, yes, but I’m not cold.”
At which point Satan would leave me in exasperation because how on earth are expected to deal with one so completely ridiculous? It might even inspire him to turn down the room temperature a bit. You know, let Hell freeze over, just to spite me and my smartass mouth. Which would be bad for me, but good for Hell, I think. It’s been the same for a long time, and if you aren’t moving forward you’re moving backward, am I right?
Also, I got a new dog. Her name is Elena, but not really because I call her Little Girl 90% of the time. She’s a monster.