The White Pills Make You Feel Good, Right?
It's almost midnight on May 9, and I'm dealing with a new problem -- my imsomnia.

It started a few weeks ago, and it's become so troublesome that I start getting nervous about going to bed about an hour before I even hit the sheets. And to think that it all started from a good place...

A few months ago, I decided to take some action against something that had been weighing on my mind for months...even years.

I have been taking Desipramine, a rather antiquated tri-cyclic antidepressant on-and-off since I was 16 years old. I first started taking it for the overwhelming depression I felt when I was a junior in high school. A few years later, I learned that the medication also worked wonders in controlling the crippling panic attacks I had upon my realization that grad school was almost over (1994), and the real world awaited. But after those panic attacks were managed and under control, I just put my head in the sand and continued to pop the pills. One tablet every night. Without the care of a true psychiatrist (my internist continues to authorize the refills), I am basically my own personal shrink with a pad for Desipramine always at the ready.

Over the course of the last decade, I started to see an amazing therapist (five years and running), and he encouraged me (along with Jerry) to talk to an MD about cutting back, and perhaps, even eliminating the meds. What I realized at this point was that a) I had a terrible fear of going off the medication, even if it purely served as a placebo for any true mental woes, b) that I had put it off for too long, and c) that if I were to continue to be medicated, it should at least make me a little less anxious than I've been over the past 6-8 months.

So, the road to mental wellness began.

Or so I thought.

I was referred to a rather stoic psychiatrist who informed me that there are plenty of newer, more modern, more appropriate medications I could be using to help manage my anxiety, but in order to get a correct read, I would have to go off my current meds first.

Sure -- it's scary. But people do it ALL THE TIME.

So, each week, he cut back 25 milligrams of the pill. And I didn't notice a thing.

Three weeks later, I was clean as a whistle. No more little white pills at bedtime...and I didn't feel even the tiniest bit different.

A week or two later? Kind of a different story.

Jerry noticed I was a lot more irritable. People at work mentioned that I seemed short-tempered. I found myself more flustered. I found myself more ANXIOUS. EXACTLY what I didn't want!

So, I took myself back to the shrink and said, "Well...I'm afraid it's come to this. I guess I *do* need to go on something new." And, in the moment, even though I felt like a bit of a failure (there was a huge part of me that wanted to be able to say -- HEY -- those pills didn't do ANYTHING for me!!! I'm A-OK on my own!!!!!), I still wondered what it might feel like to NEVER feel anxious (or compelled to do the laundry at 6 am on a Sunday...).

Last week, he prescribed me Buspar, which struck me as slightly funny, simply because Buspar is almost as antiquated as the Desipramine, but -- if it meant I was going to be more relaxed and not as neurotic -- BRING IT ON, the new-age cheerleader in my head screeched.

It's hard to say whether work has been more difficult lately, or if it's my coping mechanisms have been more askew, but I have not had a good run of self-satisfaction lately. And the medication is making me more nervous. Couple that with a high fever and a flu? It was like I was cracking every 30 seconds last week.

True -- I know, I know...I need AT LEAST 7-14 days on the medication to even notice a difference, but there are moments when I just want to curl up in a ball and cry -- How can people go through this without help? Why am I one of the people who needs the medicine? (I know -- I've been told "If you had diabetes, you'd need insulin!" but, for some reason, that strikes me as an argument that a CRAZY person created and perpetuated to kind-hearted souls everywhere, who say it to their crazy friends when trying to talk them off the proverbial roof.)

It stinks, because I feel flawed. I feel less-than-desirable. I feel like I'm not playing with the full-deck that everyone else gets.

And the sleeplessness? It doesn't help much.

So, I revel in the relative solititude of the computer, the internet, the new blog -- and thank you for listening to the ramblings of a half-medicated 33-year-old.

Tomorrow -- more news on the condo. (We're a week into escrow and dealing with mold inspections, a hyper-cheap Home Owners' Association and MORE DECORATING STRESS -- just what the MD ordered.)
- posted by Drew @ 11:57 PM