Don’t Get Caught Up in the Symptoms

So my husband is an evidence-based kind of dude. He’ll go with me to the woo woo, the chakra talk, the astrological factors, the tapping into the energetic powers of the universe, the triggering of issues from past lives. But if there’s something going on, especially quasi-medical, he’s going for the peer review literature first, and then Western whatever if that’s not readily available. So I wasn’t surprised, or too pissed off, when after a few days of my musing about what could be the source of my extreme mental discomfort lately, he sent me a link to an article from entitled, “Celexa Withdrawal Symptoms: List of Possibilities.”

Here they are: Anxiety, brain zaps, concentration problems, confusion, crying spells, depression, diarrhea, dizziness, fatigue, headaches, insomnia, irritability, memory problems, (bad) mood swings, nausea, sleep changes, suicidal thoughts, and weight changes. Hmmm.

The article goes on to say, “If your symptoms subside within a few weeks, consider yourself lucky and in the minority … The problem for most people is that the symptoms are so severe in the first few weeks of withdrawal that they feel as if their life will never be the same. During withdrawal it is important to do your best not to get caught up in the symptoms….”

Not getting caught up in the symptoms is a really fine idea, and that’s my plan. But the symptoms are happening. I’m driving home from a thing and suddenly getting so tired I’m concerned I’m going to make it home safely without passing out. I’m reading a poem about poverty on Facebook and bursting into gut-wrenching tears before the nausea sets in. This, while Ax is standing there asking me, “Mommy why are you crying?” And I have no good answer. I told him I read something that made me feel sad and he said, “Why did you read that?”

A great question: Why? Why am I putting myself and my family through this withdrawal thing, which will take at least a few months. I don’t want Summer 2017 to be the Summer mommy was nuts. I was just starting to get the hang of being less nuts.

I’ll tell you why: Because I have hope and curiosity that my un-medicated life will get even better, meaning clearer, meaning more authentic, meaning more mine, meaning I’m not sure what but I’m interested in finding out. That perhaps, knowing what I know now about who I am and how to take care of myself I won’t need medicine to ease the bumps, to dampen the highs and raise up the lows.

And I’m open to finding out that I do still need that stuff to keep out of the dangerous emotional zones. But I have to keep going, for months apparently, through this artificially rocky bit, to find out. So I’m going to try not to get caught up in the symptoms. This too shall pass.