Off the Meds and On the Mend


My Wellbutrin days are over. I tried it for a week and it gave me insomnia so bad that my anxiety levels spiked. I haven’t felt truly depressed in a while, but considering anxiety is the base issue of all my problems, a pill that decreases depression but raises anxiety is not the answer for me. While taking the pills, my mind raced constantly. I was running on an average of 3 to 4 hours of sleep a night and I was physically exhausted, but still I would be stuck laying awake until the wee hours of the morning as the wheels in my brain went round and round. I’m a terrible sleeper with a completely irregular routine as it is, so this really sent me over the edge. As soon as I cut out the meds I began sleeping again, so I plan to stay off them.

I’ve been feeling a lot better lately. As you may have read in my last post, I had a pretty bad anxiety attack last week when I found out that most of my class did poorly on their term papers. Assuming I was part of that lot, I freaked out and worried relentlessly that I was going to receive a poor mark once we got our assignment handed back. My anxiety often stems from perfectionist tendencies, and for me, anything less than a B is pretty much a failing grade, so to think that I was among the lot of students who received the average mark of C- put me over the edge. I had invested around 15 hours in writing this paper and I felt like a total failure who couldn’t do anything right. Of course, as mental illness is usually based on illogical thought processes, I had convinced myself that I had done a shit job and was now failing this class, when in actuality this was far from the truth. I got my paper back the other day and almost cried when I saw my mark: A-. Again, I had worked myself into an anxiety attack over nothing and worried for a week about nothing. It is so tiring, but at least I am able to rest easy now knowing I am not actually shit at everything. It just goes to show that other people have more faith in me than I often do in myself.

I had my first appointment with a psychiatrist today. He says my case isn’t serious enough to warrant ongoing visits. I agree. I don’t find that re-telling my story over and over again is getting me anywhere (which is why I wrote my story here, in my blog, where anyone can read it and I don’t have to repeat myself ten million times). That’s all therapy, counselling and psychiatric evaluations seem to be. I don’t need to be analyzed any more. I have analyzed myself to death. I need coping mechanisms.

I’m still waiting on a start date for my Generalized Anxiety Disorder outpatient group class. I think this is my best shot at learning how to deal with my problem. Although I don’t think it would hurt to have some Ativan on hand for those really trying times; just something to calm me down when I feel like my stomach is in my throat and my lungs are full of water; something to ease the anxiety.

Until then, I’m staying off the meds.


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