I recently wrote about the VA oversight for my anxiety medication. Its is time for me to share with you how this affected my life.
I
have done a lot of research on anxiety disorders and also read or heard many
personal stories about anxiety. I have probably had an anxiety disorder for
around 15 years. I was “treated” for many things between then and now, but
anxiety was NEVER mentioned until about a year ago. I was so frustrated when
all my treatment options never worked or was told “you are a parent, of course
you feel like crap.” About a year ago, I had a doctor prescribe me a low level
anxiety medication just to see if it would help me. I think he could see that I
was over all these diagnosis and treatment options, so he was very careful with
how he approached it. I took the meds and didn’t think they did anything…until
I didn’t take them. It was like a winner sign was flashing and ding-ding-ding was going off in my head.
Someone finally figured it out!!! I am the kind of person that does not mind
being “broken” as long as I know what’s broke and how to fix it. I finally felt
empowered. I got a mental health provider to help me adjust my meds so I could
feel AMAZING one day and I am getting really close.
Over the last year, I have
had two really bad panic attacks and they were terrifying. So, when my
medication ran out I was very fearful because if I could have that level of
panic attack on medication, what will my chances of losing my ever loving mind
be, when off my meds?
On
the first day without my medication, I was just a little off. I felt paranoid,
but hopeful that my medication would arrive that day and all would be well.
When I found out it did not arrive with the other medication, I started to
internally spiral. I held on as tightly as I could to the sanity that was
starting to vanish so no one around me would notice. I am sure most of it was
in my head because I had to have some residual level of medication left in my
system.
The
second day is when my withdrawal symptoms began. I was shaky and foggy. I
started feeling fearful and the rage began to creep up. The rage felt like a
shadow monster lurking behind me waiting for the right moment of weakness to
take my body over. This was the day I started trying to get my issue corrected
with the VA with no luck. I was quite upset towards the end of the day because I
realized I could not enjoy anything anymore. I could go through the motions and
be present, but I was not "in the moment" when me and my children opened gifts
that evening. I knew how to behave, so that is what I did, but I felt nothing and those memories are more like watching a TV show of someone else's life.
The
third day was when the panic began to set in. I had a very stressful and high
profile meeting the following day. I had my daughter’s performance that I
wanted so desperately to be “present” for. I called the one person that I hate
letting down, with tears pouring down my face, exclaiming without even a
“hello” from me, “I have been without my meds for 3 days.” He responded,
“okay?” I explained that I have that meeting tomorrow for the project he
suggested me for and I was scared that I would lose it if someone talked to me
sideways, which was honestly expected. He just said it would be okay and that
if I needed to not go, he understood. That evening my car broke down and I
almost missed my daughter’s performance. I felt like a complete and udder
lunatic with my manic behavior. I had the choice to give into my world crashing
down around me or act like a crazy person…you know what I am talking about,
right? Those people that I equate to Alice in Wonderland folk. Well, I hope you
understand because I cannot find the words to explain it any further. This was
the day that I was told my medication was overnighted to me. I held on…it was
almost over…
On
day four the withdrawal symptoms finally subsided. I could think clearly and I
was not shaky. However, I was still stuck between rage and fear. I was either
holding back that rage monster or uncontrollably crying from fear. I preferred
the rage monster because that was completely internal. I did not want anyone to
see what was going on inside my mind. I went to the dreaded meeting. Although
it was frustrating at times, I met wonderful people, felt pretty accomplished,
and was excited about the project. I just kept telling myself to hold on…I will
be okay in a day or two. When I got home, my medicine was waiting on me. I took
them wishing they would work instantly, but I knew better. I think I finally
hit my limit from shear exhaustion of fighting that rage monster because I lost
my marbles and a friend came to my house to just make sure I was okay. He spent
a few hours with me while I packed, cried, laughed, talked, and listened.
There
are so many more things that happened during those four days and many details
are left out. It was just too much to tell. I think my favorite part about the
entire thing, besides knowing I survived, is how everyone reacted to me when I
was honest with them. If I was asked how I was doing, I was honest. If I was
worried about my behavior, I was honest. If I needed something, even the
ridiculous, I was honest. I mean, brutally honest. I told people “I’ve been off
my meds for 3 days because the VA f***ed up, so all I am feeling right now is
rage and fear. I am sorry if I am a hot mess.” I told a few people that I was worried that if
someone talked to me sideways, I might shank them. I was truly terrified of how
I felt and I shared it. If someone asked me how I was doing, I responded with
honesty. I can be quite witty with it, so I am sure that helped. Or maybe
people were just afraid of me, who knows? Some people even had full
conversations with me and it was nice to feel heard and supported.
Today
is day two on my medication. Although it’s cold and dreary outside, I feel
sunshine and see rainbows in my mind.
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