That's it! I'm crying UNCLE!!! These little yellow pills are going to kill me.
I started the increased dosage of Zoloft on July 28th. Every goddamned day since then I've been nauseated to the point of vomiting and I feel like my head is disconnected and floating away from the rest of my body like so many helium balloons. I anxiously await the moment the hubby or Meg walk by and tell me that my head is lolling to one side and I'm drooling all over myself. It's like being on one big Nyquil hangover. To my knowledge I haven't yet sat there for hours on end, drooling on myself. That would be bad. Very. Bad.
We can't leave out the dizzy spells. OH MY GOD THE DIZZY SPELLS. One minute I'll be sitting with the Little Imp watching the Wiggles (while annoying, they aren't quite enough to make the room spin) and all of a sudden the room feels like it's about to turn over on its side. Colors start to run together and it's like I'm on the ferris wheel from hell. I've woken up in the middle of the night, so dizzy that I can't even walk five feet without falling over and into the dresser. Thankfully no major damage occurred...to myself or the dresser.
I phoned my doc after the first week on the new dosage was spent with my head in the toilet. He told me to give it another week because it was probably a combination of the increase in the medication and my hormones being all out of whack from weaning the Little Imp all in one go (was rather nightmarish) and my stomach was reacting to the combination of the two.
I doubt that could still be the problem as I'm still producing enough milk to compete with a small dairy farm. That reminds me, I need to leave a note for the Breast Milk Fairy to take me off her route.
After phoning my family doc she told me that she could almost guarantee it was the Zoloft and seeing as how I wasn't getting anywhere with my prescribing doc, she'd call him and together they'd figure out what to do with little ol' depressed me. I'm sort of a pill (pun completely intended) to work with when it comes to meds. Don't like them and avoid them at all costs if I can. She also wanted to know why I hadn't been put on Xanax or something like it seeing as how I can't seem to leave the house without having a major panic attack. It's so much FUN being me! Great, lets just add another happy pill to the mix. Just call me Rite Aid!
The straw that broke the camels back came this afternoon. I was on my way home from taking Meg to work and got so dizzy that I almost took out an entire row of mailboxes and a small Rat Terrier. I thought for sure the Jeep was overturning and felt like I was flipping over. The Little Imp was in the car with me, and to say that this scared the almighty living fuck out of me would be an understatement of EPIC proportions. I pulled over, threw up, got back in the car and cried so hard that I scared the Little Imp to the point of tears. I still can't get visions of twisted metal and either myself or my daughter, broken and bleeding. I would never have been able to live with myself had anything happened to her because I was gorked out on anti-depressants.
I called both of my docs in tears and told them this wasn't working and something had to be done immediately because I could have caused a horrible car accident or worse. It's bad enough that my life has gotten to the point of having to take this shit, but the "help" I'm supposed to be getting, in the form of those little yellow pills, shouldn't be worse than the problem that necessitated me taking them to begin with.
It's taken me four hours just to write this. I still can't focus on anything longer than a few minutes, I don't care if I ever leave my house again, hell I don't care if I ever integrate back into society, and what's worse, because of the mental haze this shit causes, I don't care that I don't care about anything.
I'm writing about all of this because next to my hubby and kids, writing is the one thing I'm trying to hang onto right now. It's literally a lifeline.
