Hi.
I could only get through two or three of my last posts before I had to stop. I didn't realize how long I'd been severely depressed. But I sure know it now. To recap for whoever still cares, in December 2023 I reached out to my psychiatrist's office to get a one-on-one therapist and an adjustment to my medication because I was starting to have suicidal ideations. So my psych decided to double my dose of Effexor without talking to me at all about side effects. I went from 75mg to 150mg. So I tried that and my therapy and it got me through for a bit, but I still didn't feel much better.
Summer came and I started running. Like seriously running. I still remember my first time running with GGC at the track at SMC and how I wanted to throw up before I even got past 400m. It was so hard because I hadn't done any running in over 20 years and I was still figuring out my blood sugar medication. I didn't have lunch that day and, well, now I know how not smart that is.
Anyway, I kept it up and figured out which apps I wanted to use in order to train. I started using the Adidas app for its training modules and eventually switched to the Nike Run Club app. Over time, my endurance increased and I got to the point I could run a mile without a break. This, for me, is a big deal.
But then in September, I hit a wall with any progress in my depression treatment. I was crying nearly every day and feeling hopeless, severely depressed, and exhausted. My brain was doing horrible things to me. Then in late September, I decided to stop taking my medication. Again, I had no idea what side effects to expect when stopping Effexor. The first day, I felt kind of hot in my head, like when you're about to get a fever and a cold. By day 3, I couldn't keep myself together. I fell apart and day 4, I called out sick and stayed home and cried all day. But then it got worse and from what I can remember, I checked my blood pressure and it was extremely high. I checked it three more times and it was so high that my monitor said I should go to the hospital. So, I did. And on the way there, still sobbing, my brain spiraled and I was driving while yelling at my dead father and telling him this was all his fault and I took 10 ativan and wanted to die.
Then I was in urgent care and the nurses were monitoring my blood pressure before finally transferring me to the emergency room. My friend showed up and I don't think he should have had to see me in that condition, but he was there up until I got checked into the ER. Then I was monitored all night by a security guard and I couldn't get to my phone or my bag. I had to be escorted to the restroom by a nurse whenever I needed to pee.
After a quick eval, I was taken to the mental health center where I stayed for three nights, I think. There's a lot I don't remember and I could re-read the journal I wrote in the whole time I was there, but I don't want to. Not yet. I just know I was there Friday night, Saturday night, Sunday night, and Monday I spoke to the psych and a social worker and they felt I was okay enough to go home.
I got sent home with a prescription for 10mg prozac and some time off work. But I still wasn't through the withdrawals. I was too disabled to drive myself very far and the brain zaps were jarring. Everything seemed too bright and it was like there was a glare on everything. One evening, I woke up screaming, literally screaming, from a nightmare about a man trying to get into my bedroom through my window. My mom, our two dogs, and my brother all came into my bedroom because I had scared them. Later during group therapy, I shared about this and a girl there said, "ME TOO" as she had also been in the mental health center. I think the dream was recalling the trauma of being somewhere that isn't home and that includes bed checks every 15 minutes to make sure you're still alive. I won't even get into the details of what happened while I was in there. I just know that I had to play along with the psych and the social worker to ensure I could be released. To be honest, I probably should have stayed there longer, but I started to think about how I had to get back to my dogs and I had an interview that week for a grad school program that I didn't even get into.
So, I've continued running. It's almost a year since I started fully and faithfully training to be a runner. I've since run two 5k races, a 1 mile race, and I have the Nike After Dark tour half marathon coming up this June. I did have to take about two weeks off because my left leg really hurt and it wasn't healing with just one week of rest. It had been hurting since the first 5k in March and it's now May. That's two months of pain and I'd like to make sure I don't hurt myself before the big race. I also want to continue training safely so that I can build my speed and endurance because my current mile time is still a bit too slow for this particular race.
I'm going to try anyway.
I'm still doing my best to not get too down. I take my meds on time and have switched from Prozac to Citalopram (Celexa) and it's been okay. I think back to how horrible things were getting while on Effexor and how scary it was that I got to the point I was hearing a voice literally tell me to kill myself. And I still resent my previous psych for increasing the dose rather than paying attention to what was happening to me. When I last spoke to her, after my hospitalization, I told her that I was not ready to drive yet or be at work because I did not believe that I would be able to supervise students adequately or safely. She said, "I don't like to encourage my patients to avoid work." And I didn't have the strength that day to tell her that I just wanted to make sure I didn't kill myself. That I wanted to heal and continue with treatment without worrying about how to pay the rent. I dislike her for her ignorance and callous response to the impact her treatment had on me. And yet I know I wouldn't win the argument because she could use against me the fact that I stopped taking the meds before she could respond to my email about how I was feeling and that I wanted to stop taking it.
I've been very sad lately because I think too much about how I'm on my own on weekends and during vacation/time off. Spring break, I spent by myself. Or I took my dogs with me to the park. But for the most part, I was by myself. Weekends I am also by myself. I don't want to miss out on good movies or cool things, so I do make the effort to go to the movies by myself and I take myself to the bookstore. I pretty much don't assume my friends will reach out to make plans like those. We usually only get together for someone's birthday. I'm not bitter about this, just sad. I used to have a group and we used to do so much together. These days, I might spend time with my work friends after we're off, but we all have our separate lives during the holidays and weekends. I think this particular medication makes it easier for me to get through that sort of thing because while I was on Effexor, those were the sort of disappointments that nearly killed me.