Switching My Anti-Depressants Nearly Killed Me

 

“I walked beside Suicide. He was my steady companion and a constant reassurance that he had planned a swift exit for me, to ease the pain, and the hopelessness, and the deep empty hole that I would never be able to fill. Something used to exist in that void, and I had a dim sense of longing for what used to be. I spoke of my worries and fears while he gestured towards the one way road we would take together. The solution was so perfectly laid out before me, and I hastily scribbled words to paper that I hoped would be meaningful to those who may not understand. Send a carbon copy to everyone I love – I’ve released them from their obligations to my misery.” – Me

I’m alive, but I almost wasn’t.

All of a sudden, Princess Patrice (If my brain was a cartoon character) wasn’t the endearingly gloomy and whiny brain we’ve come to know and love; she was a raging bitch, fresh out of serotonin and on a murderous and self-destructive rampage. And also, she had taken my mind and body hostage. Fuck. All this, just because I transitioned off of Cipralex and onto Wellbutrin. Things got serious fast.

Picture this: an abandoned town with old, dilapidated signs that screamed out words like ‘beware’, ‘stay out’, ‘danger’. Our dear protagonist brazenly walks past all of the warning signs. In the middle of this town, among the rag tag streets and boarded up houses, there is this one cheery, colorful, ALIVE building. It’s a walk-in clinic with this kindly, old, empathetic doctor, and he offers our sweet and naive character a pink pill in place of her blue pill. He’s so trustworthy and kind that she agrees to his trade, but the horror music playing in the background lets the audience know that something ghastly has just transpired. So begins a dark and creepy movie that you just know is going to be chock-full of eerie-zombie-ghost-ladies appearing in mirrors, and voodoo sticks, and monsters in the woods, with a dash of people being pulled off their beds by invisible forces. Basically, that was my life. Step into my nightmare.

Things peaked in March, but spoiler alert: I survived, and I am so happy that I did.

manic

I’m going to tell you all about my nightmare, and it’s about to get real uncomfortable up in here. Just know that I survived and I walked out with some beautiful lessons and a profound sense that if I can come out of this thing alive then I can do anything I set my mind to!

And yes, surviving involved a tiny bit more effort than just cleaning up my make-up and changing around some post-its on my mirror. I had to work hard at it! I finally saw in colour and felt the sun on me again, but not even a few weeks before, I was on the phone with a crisis helpline with 30 pills and a good bye note spread out in front of me. I almost missed out on colour and light, because my brain told me it would be dark forever. Turns out I didn’t even have to wait that long before someone lit a match for me and showed me the way out.

Survivor

Categories depression, UncategorizedTags , , , , , ,

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