Conclusion: Achieving Equilibrium

He warned me about potential suicidal thoughts. He didn’t mention that I would feel like I was falling down on the inside.

I had to get out of the shower early because I felt like I was going to fall down on the outside. I had to get off the stairs, because it didn’t feel right for me to be there. Imminent danger. Essentially, I felt euphoric this morning until the side effects hit me.

And then all I really wanted to do was cry.

I couldn’t walk, I couldn’t type, I couldn’t do anything involving motion of any sort. We were supposed to go to the Zombie Walk in Salt Lake City this afternoon. Strangely, I was a zombie. But I couldn’t walk.

Let’s go back to the very beginning (a very good place to start, sang Maria in The Sound of Music). Holy losing focus, Batman. Wait, what is Batman doing here?

This is kind of what came out of my brain when I got out of the hospital, when they had me REALLY high on OCD meds. I wrote enough to fill a book, but it was gibberish. Now I realize that I was still manic at the time.

This time, it only took a 25mg dosage increase for me to feel “off.” Once it accumulated in my blood, I was pretty much screwed. And I ask, how ever did I drive around on 150mg of this stuff running through my veins? I tried the increase up to 100mg and I feel…as they say, all the feels. Confusion mostly.

To quote my phone, which I used to record my thoughts earlier:

Hey I just realized I can take notes with this thing. Cool beans I wanted to write about how this medication makes me feel because the memories are flooding back of when I used to be on too much vacation and when I fell into my airplane seat and when I would Scooch my butt LOL when I couldn’t get down the stairs without falling. How was a functioning on that much medication I was driving around cracked out of my moon. That’s not safe. When you shake so badly that you fold-down that’s not a good thing you shouldn’t be out driving. No wonder I was nonfunctional and how can you benefit from the euphoria if you crying because the side effects how does this make me better? It’s the day of the zombie walk and I can’t walk because I’m a zombie.

Some of it was the microphone’s fault. Most of it was the medication. It made a lot more sense at the time. Now it’s time to pose a question:

“If wellness in this what in hell’s name is sickness?” Amanda Palmer, Runs in the Family, Who Killed Amanda Palmer, 2008.

EXACTLY, LADY. YOU ARE SINGING MY SONG.

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I’m free and clear of the majority of nasty side effects now. Realizing what a miserable, cracked-out bitch I must have seemed like to my husband all those years ago when I was (insert Bill Hicks’ voice) “Reeeeeeeaaaaaallll f***ing high on drugs.”

That bit about schooching on my butt? I would shake so badly that stairs became my enemy. It was either sit down or fall down. I chose to sit down, because when you’re playing mommy and daddy at the same time it greatly aids you NOT to fall down the stairs. This was the psychiatrist’s way of making me functional. But let’s face it: I really was that sick. The delusion of guilt for a crime I had not committed still haunted me daily.

Falling into my airplane seat? From the anxiety and the medication, I had an episode of shaking so severe that I collapsed into the seat on my first trip back from visiting family in Idaho. I remember seeing a young man, confused by this. My daughter was worried as well. My response? “Mamma’s got the shakes, baby.” It was nearly incomprehensible but it was the best I could do at the time.

Cracked out of my moon? Indeed. I used to randomly cut people off while driving. I blamed myself for bad driving. But it was almost certainly true that I did not recognize my limitations. I should not have been driving at all.

How was this my normal for so many years?

I had a seizure the night after my husband and I seriously discussed divorce. I thought it was the stress. The wool had been pulled so tight over my eyes that it was scratching my eyelids. And I couldn’t even feel it.

Read, if you will, the precautions listed here.

More than one percent of long-term Anafranil users have seizures. My shrink referred to my seizure as “that unexplained episode.” Knowing what medications I was on, it’s a miracle my health insurance paid for an MRI. Ignorant of me to wonder why it was so hard to get approval: they knew. They knew what had caused the seizure-like activity. My psychiatrist just wouldn’t admit that the medication caused it.

Why was it not considered a true seizure, you may wonder? In true seizure the sufferer passes out. I was conscious when I started shaking and lost control of my body. It was the single most terrifying experience of my life. It may not have been preventable. But I was under the care of someone who should have known the risks, and should have properly conveyed them.

Shoulda. Woulda. Coulda.

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It’s a few days later and I feel much better, though I do have a problem getting up from kneeling or sitting. I’ve contacted the doctor and asked to see an actual psychiatrist, which I hope will help immensely. Until next time folks, same Bat-time, same Bat-channel...