I want to tell you about my lowering my anti-depressants. We’ll have a few laughs, I might hit them feels every so often, and there might be some tips and tricks that might help.
So I have enough narcissism to power my self-esteem engine. I’m 533 days free of cutting, I’m unhappy but not depressed, and I have enough confidence to answer the phone (after coffee of course) without freaking out. I’m all jokes and cockiness now, but I won’t forget how depression would whisper all my secrets, and make me want to scratch the darkness from my skull. I’ve been there, and I’m going back, because this year has been filled with me doing what I’m scared of. Treetop walking (I have a fear of heights), roller-coasters (a humongous fear of heights) and lowering my meds. My GP felt it was time, and I felt strong enough, so I did the treetop walking, got on a roller-coaster and that was that. Kidding.
This is my second decrease. My first was three months ago. The first time went a bit different to this time, because I wasn’t sure what to expect. Now I’m a little more seasoned. What I did know was I would fall in a few days after the decrease. My body takes a while to realise what’s happening, like a cartoon walking off a cliff. *Pulls up sign saying this is going to hurt*. So I spent those few days calling my team. Friends, family, anyone with an ear who could support me. Zombie Apocalypse alarms went off in my head, so I boarded up all emotional windows and doors that the monsters could get in from, I huddled with everyone who’d keep me safe, and hoped I didn’t get bitten.
I made a list of don’ts until I was back to full strength. Don’t drink (oh my god I cannot stress that one enough! Lick the sole of a shoe. It’ll be safer). Don’t watch/listen to certain things (Radiohead and Placebo were sad losses there). And do not kick your own ass for what you can’t do in this state. Then came my list of Dos (tres, quarto, cinco). Do socialise at least three times a week (because my monsters hunt me better when I’m not part of a pack. And when my body's chemistry feels like it's being managed by a blind intern, “Ugh, people” turns into “I want all seven billion of you on a rocket to Mars” in six seconds flat). Do eat well (I turn into a monstrous hell-beast that feasts on the souls of children when I don’t have my snickers). And do your best (there isn’t a force on this planet that can ask you to do any more, and if you kick your own ass for your best not being enough to get passed this, refer back to the whole don’t-kick-your-own-ass part).
I want to pause for a minute, and talk about you. Don’t see what I’m saying as bullet points on how to get off meds. Go to your doctor, that guy/girl paid a lot of money to go to college just to help you. My medical knowledge amounts to a total of watching the first episode of Grey’s Anatomy. Also, there’s one reason I’m getting off meds: I don’t need them. If you do need them, that’s ok. I wouldn’t kick a crutch from under you and say “Walk like me you cripple”! And if, by the end of this, it turns out I still need meds, that’s ok too. It’d suck a little, having no climax by the end, but at least I can make sexual innuendos about it ;)
Lowering my meds stung like a bitch. I cried over everything. But I forced myself to socialise, I forced myself to not listen/watch depressing things (as best as I could. Trump is still in power, how can I avoid that) and I forced myself to tell the people around me how I was feeling. That last one is important, because when I get depressed, I go quiet. If there’s noise, like on a battlefield, it means there’s fighting. It meant I was screaming shouting crying and roaring. But if there’s silence on the battlefield, it means one thing.
I’m going through my second round of decreased dosage at this moment. A little braver, a little riskier. I had a few days grace, but now I’m starting to dip. I can feel all the shadows circle me like wolves. But this is not my first rodeo, so I’m mooning all those monsters and saying “Come at me bro"! I’m doing this because my monsters make the mistake of not making sure I stay down. They can hurt me like I’m playing poke-the-shark with my dick, but when I’m as low as they can get me, I say “Wow, you guys must have a great dental plan! Because when I get back up, I’m taking all your fangs, and I’m going to make a pretty necklace out of them”. Will I still have this bravado when my mood drops like the base in any Skrillex song; no. Will I come out the other side of this; I’m like 80% sure I will.
If you got this far, wow, you’re awesome. I'll try not to make to make the next ones as long (and there will be next ones. I'm getting lower by the day and I have another country to travel to soon and I have my biggest poetry performance in my life even sooner (I perform poetry btw)). I just had to give you a bit of back story.
To end on a happy note, and to prove I got through my whole fluster cuck of emotions the first time round, here's a picture of me NOT crying over spilt milk.