*** Long Ranty Post Alert ***
This is going to be a long one I think. To avoid any "TL/DR" I'll bullet point and highlight the most important bits for you, dear readers. That way you can scan over the post and still get the message.
In August 2006 I finally went on medication which was to help me overcome the somewhat crippling clinical depression I was suffering with, and had struggled with, on and off, since the age of 14. I wrote a few blog posts about it on my other blog, as I joined the ranks of the Medicated Generation again (I was briefly prescribed anti-depressants while I was 17, and again at 21, but didn't stick at either of these).
On March 4th, I took my final dose of Fluoextine (Prozac to most of you) and began the withdrawal process so that 4-7 days later I could start taking Citalopram - which my Doctor and I decided would be better for my current situation of extreme anxiety and help with my daily panic attacks. Although it's generally accepted that Fluoextine has a long half-life and as such, for that week of ZEROMEDSOMG I should in theory be OK, the Doc did warn me that there would be side-effects after such a long time on the meds.
Oh boy, were there side-effects. Shaking, crying, self-harming, moments of mania, hot and cold flushes, being sick, insomnia, anxiety attacks, loss of appetite, dizzy spells, stomach ache, and a general feeling of being a zombie. Yeah, that just about covers it I think. We can also include short-term memory loss too and a general self-destructive attitude if you like too. All fun and games!
Following on from that, I then started the new meds and found that initially the side-effects got worse. Yes. But now I'm on day 9 and up to the full dose now (I started them on 6th day clean of Prozac because I was getting desperate) and I can see the light at the end of the tunnel. I'm having more moments of clarity and normality than fucked-up moments of actual horror. I appear to be down to one panic attack or anxiety attack a day (had a grand total of 3 in 3 hours the other day!). I'm managing to sleep; I'm eating again and haven't damaged myself in 4 days.
So, feeling more like myself again, I'm writing this to express thanks to:
- The people who have been there, have always been there and who understand as best as they can what I'm going through and why I've done the things I've done.
- The people who have reached out to me without solicitation, in person and metaphorically.
- The people who have answered my late night texts, who've held me, who've let me go crazy but not break apart completely, who've got me drunk, told me when to stop, let me cry on them, brought me coffee and cigarettes and so on and so forth ad infinitum.
- The people who are FRIENDS.
And to the others, the ones who really don't have a clue I say this:
"GET FUCKED."
In all seriousness, you can actually go fuck yourselves.
You can say whatever you like about me and my actions, my situation, twist the facts as much as you like if it makes you feel better about yourselves but ultimately you know that you are wrong - you should know better than that. You can lie, gossip, point and stare at me, but don't underestimate me, I'm a whole world stronger than you will ever know. Back to the playground with you!
You've met The Head Girl of Slytherin plenty of times but you'd have to be a complete moron to think that's all there is to me...
And that's the end of that.
