Side Effects

It's been nearly a month since I stopped Zoloft and have been without a replacement. Many people, prescribing physicians mostly, don't believe that there are withdrawal side effects when antidepressants/anti-anxiety medications are involved; it is sad and devastating to those who live through it. My doctor doesn't appear to be one of those truth deniers, but my previous doctor most certainly was. I'm going to list the side effects that I have been experiencing since this nightmare of a journey began:

Side Effects

Brain zaps. The best way I can describe it is the sound (and probably feeling) of a bug getting electrocuted by one of those bug things (the word escapes me). My cats can hear the zaps. I know this because they're ears perk up when it happens.Exhaustion.InsomniaRealistic dreams and nightmares that leave me wondering what is realHeadachesEye pressureTemple pressure (think of a railroad spike going through your temples)Rage. All the rage.Sadness. All the sadn…
It is devastating to be in this place again. I know that the purpose of my life is not to be sad, and yet, here I am. Each time I think that I've turned a corner, that the worst part is behind me, I'm blind sided with uncontrollable emotions. Fortunately much of my rage has subsided, but it's still there, bubbling beneath the surface, waiting to spill over with the slightest upset. What hasn't left, however, are the tears. So. Many. Tears. I don't want to cry them, they don't seem to have a purpose, and even though I need to let them flow I catch myself trying to stop them. I vacuumed and mopped the house in tears this afternoon. I watched an episode of The Middle in tears. I'm in tears now. All the fucking tears.

Months ago, save for a few posts, I wiped my blog clean. I didn't want a record of my lows. Apparently my lows demand a record because here we are. My insurance company continues to deny my medication. My doctor's office has not been truth…

The Year of Selfish

2018 is the year of Me. I am giving myself permission to put myself first and to tell other people ”no” without explaining or feeling like I have to. I’m giving myself permission to be a mess and to clean it up when I am good and ready because clearly forcing myself into happiness has not worked thus far. I give myself permission to be in love with people, in any way I see fit (emotionally), and to not stuff those feelings down. Those feelings are mine and I deserve to feel them and shouldn’t make myself feel bad for doing so.

2018 will be a year in which I cry more often in public because my heart is sad and I am a deeply feeling person. I will be attentive to friendships and begin burning down the walls of inhibition. I am 34 years old. I want to live to be 35, both literally and figuratively. I have held myself back so much.

This year I am giving myself permission to figure out what I need to be happy and to foster those needs until I get there. I give myself permission to enjoy po…


Last night I had trouble pronouncing basic words; think “real” and “great.” At first I had a good laugh because I couldn’t carry on a conversation without sounding like a moron, but that all changed when I went to read in bed and had trouble there as well. I was able to make out a lot of words, but I did not retain any of the plot line and again, basic words were foreign to my brain. This was, undoubtedly, a withdrawal side effect from Zoloft. It was also the scariest I’ve dealt with so far.

The inability to carry on an intelligible conversation caused me to have a really shitty panic attack. I couldn’t breathe, my heart was racing, and I legit thought I was going to die. Fortunately going outside and staring at the super moon while standing in the freezing cold helped. I also threw up, and I swear I was basically John Coffey from The Green Mile, spewing out the garbage of whatever is going on inside of me. I sound fucking insane. But that’s what happened.

I woke up this morning still…


I attempted to do an online suicide prevention chat; I was number 49. Seriously? People are suicidal and have to be in a line to talk with someone? That is not right. It's been a rough night. It's been a rough few weeks. I'm having terrible withdrawals from Zoloft and I can't control my reactions. I am so quick to anger and rage. I am so sad and tired and can't sleep. I cry so much. I think about cutting myself. I've thought about driving my car into a tree at top speed. My brain is zapping me every time I move my eyes, which, as you know, people move their eyes all the time.

The people in my house suck. I love them to death, but they suck. We've had conversations about this. I have point blank told them that I need help, and I wrote down the ways that I need them to do it. They said they understood. They apologized. They had conversations about how they could support me together because I am almost not in control of myself. And yet they went did the same t…

Blue Christmas (not a blue waffle)

Christmas is such a bittersweet time for me. I love everything about the holiday, but it comes and goes so quickly and is a reminder of how much we’ve left behind. Lorelei is 8 and this very well be the last year she believes in Santa. That hurts my heart in a way I’ve never felt before. She is so intoxicated by the magic of the season. From her elf on the shelf to the naughty and nice list to leaving cookies for Santa and carrots for the reindeer, she is about it all. I am not sure how I will adapt to the loss of so much wonder and enchantment; it’s something we will never get back.

Christmas is also an end to another year. I don’t handle the loss of time well and never have. 2017 has, for all intents and purposes, been garbage; it’s been tarnished by a sociopath who is dividing our country and leaves us wondering what we will awaken to each morning. It’s been filled with mass murder and natural disasters and the loss of loved ones who were taken far too soon. But 2017 was also wonde…


I am sad and that's okay. I am broken and that's okay. I am a garbage person and for now, that is okay. I am struggling right now and that is okay. I am not where I want to be and that is okay. One would think that with all of these things that are okay in my life that I, myself, would be okay. But I'm not, and that's okay, because it's okay to not be okay.

Now if I could only get myself to believe that.