Sitting in it: Anti-depressant withdrawal

I'm so by the book. A total rule follower. I suppose one could say control freak, but let's focus on the positive.

A year and a half ago, I started taking escitalopram (Lexapro) and bupropion (Wellbutrin) for intense mood changes during PMS, diagnosed as PMDD. I just wasn't myself in those 10 days before my period. Moody, negative, angry, impulsive.  It scared me.

I started taking Lexapro and Wellbutrin after I felt I had ruined a family vacation with my mood swings and spent most of the week a teary mess. And it helped! The Wellbutrin was added to Lexapro to counteract side effects (like delayed orgasm which is no fun) and to help me give up vaping nicotine which I have done on and off secretly for years.

The combination seemed brilliant and my moods stabilized enough to override any hesitation with taking meds to mask hormonal imbalances.

I switched from an intensely stressful job to a positive one with less risk. And I finally relaxed my shoulders.

A funny thing happened when I finally felt safe. I started having intense, terrifying nightmares. Most were about harm coming to my family members.  I started talking, yelling, crying in my sleep, occasionally acting out and once giving myself a nasty scar on my forehead from striking myself somehow.
A sleep study, sleep meds and PTSD treatment didn't get me anywhere but losing sleep over sleep.

I did EMDR, gave up nicotine for good (thank you,  Annie Grace) and settled in to at least the best sleep hygiene in my control.  The nightmares persisted even as I tried to be patient for my brain to process whatever it needed to.  The only thing I hadn't tried was eliminating the Lexapro and Wellbutrin, which can both affect sleep.

I tapered properly and carefully,  first the Lexapro then three weeks later,  the Wellbutrin. I didn't anticipate any issues except maybe a bit of anxiety and unease.

Three days after stopping Wellbutrin, I saw the dog gate on our stairs was askew. I wanted to kick the gate off the wall and across the room,  hard. I shook my head and shook it off.

The sound of my husband chewing, the feeling of my kid hugging me too hard, it made me shudder, but to be expected,  I guess?

Then I felt guilty. I'm being so impatient,  so sensitive.  Why am I snapping at everyone? Who does that? Why am I such a fucking disaster? Why can't I stop these feelings? Ohhhh, right.  Norepinephrine and dopamine were no longer being supplemented by the Wellbutrin, nicotine wasn't available for dopamine,  no Lexapro for the serotonin bump,  no solid sleep to smooth the edges.
I felt such utter grief for anyone who has to go through a more acute withdrawal.  No wonder it's difficult,  especially knowing a quick relapse could at least temporarily obliterate the negative feelings.

Then the words of my lovely, brilliant therapist,  "there's no way out but through" popped into my head.  She told me to sit on the floor of the shower and run it over my head until the hot water was out. To block out as many disturbances to my nervous system as possible.

I did, but holy shit it was a rollercoaster. I felt so low. I was trying so hard to keep it together but kept falling short. I realized this is exactly why I needed the Lexapro and Wellbutrin and nicotine in the first place.  I bounce between anything distracting so I don't need to sit in discomfort.  And I hate waiting.  So I started trying to learn.

A cool bath, without scrolling my phone or watching a show. Moving slowly, calling in sick to work, looking outside at the beautiful day and talking myself out of the guilt of being inside so much lately. I listened to a whole Reuben and the Dark Album without stopping to Google something.  I hugged myself, literally. I ate comfort food.  I drank water and took all the vitamins. I napped and cried. Then I got frustrated it wasn't working but still did it all over again. And again. And again.

In the doing it again and again,  I realized it's not just the withdrawal I'm healing from.  It's my discomfort with discomfort. I don't ever want to give into it,  but I suppose it has to happen once in a while and we can only control so much.  One foot in front of the other,  without shortcuts, without panic, just a calm in knowing this too shall pass.