So back in the insomnia days, I mentioned in passing that I started taking an anti-anxiety drug called Effexor. Effexor worked wonders…for a handful of months. But during those months, I had insomnia, and then felt no effect whatsoever, soooo…DRUGS? Per Doctor’s orders I’m going off the Effexor, and guys, I AM DETOXING like WHOA.
I’m sure the drug has been a lifesaver to many. I’m just saying there are SUPPORT GROUPS for people going through Effexor withdrawal — kinda a red flag. I have beef with my doctor, who prescribed what I now read is a “last chance” drug when I totally wasn’t “last chance” — I was like, first chance! I had all the chances! She never so much as hinted that coming off of Effexor is often compared to coming off of heroin. What, she bone the drug rep or something? (T-shirt: “My psychiatrist went on a Wyeth-sponsored vacation, and all I got was this drug hangover.”)
The physical withdrawal — nausea (”Am I going to puke? No. No. Wait, I might puke. No I’m not.”), brain zaps (”What’s that over ther-zzzzzztt WTF?!”), and night sweats (”#fellas. . . “) are all bearable. Although I do feel like a junkie when I’m breaking down a tablet into EIGHTHS just to get a “fix,” but I bought an adorable pill box off of Etsy, so it’s okay. No, worst part of the withdrawal process has been an almost comedic cycle of mood swings that either send me into a crying jag or stir a desire within me to BURN SOMETHING DOWN.
Because I’ve been dealing with clinical depression since I was 16, I’m pretty familiar with the chemical makeup — and sometimes fuckups –of my brain.
See, when my brain is doing its job, it looks like this:

But sometimes, when my brain is a total chump, it looks like this:

The kicker is, you might never even know that SAD BRAIN IS SAD, because I’m damn good at masking it. I didn’t win “Best Actress in a Play” at the Rockford High School Theatre awards TWO YEARS IN A ROW for NO REASON, GUYS.
But this detox thing is the WORST, because it overrides any hope of me suppressing my raw emotions by making me cry, at the drop of a hat.
Seriously. Out of nowhere. It doesn’t have to be blatantly sad things, either! I cried at EVERY. SINGLE. SEGMENT. of CBS Sunday Morning, and they did a story on the US Pole Dancing Championships.
Here’s today, for example:
Why I Cried, Tuesday Edition
7:40am: Because of GMA’s segment on “Babies of 9/11.” (LOW BLOW, DIANE SAWYER.)
7:44am: Because I couldn’t get my bangs to lay right.
8:04am: Because a woman in the next lane drove too fast in a school zone.
11:33am: Because somewhere, “Moon River” was playing.
3:27pm: Because a disgruntled employee sent me a grumpy email. (I said early next week! It’s Tuesday! WHY YOU YELL AT MEEE?)
7:00pm: Because a young man was holding the crook of his lady’s arm until it was safe to cross the street.
6:16pm: Because I was in a Walmart.
I do have to laugh, which I suppose is all I can do. I’m just taking it day, b’day.
Oh, and about the Walmart — All was not in vain. Check out this AWESOME SHIRT I GOT FOR NINE DOLLARS:

It only came in XXL-XXXL and was merchandised above the high-waisted jean shorts.

