Aquainted With The Night

I have a fun blog almost completely ready to publish, but tonight I need to write about something else. I have to write about something that I don't like talking about, thinking about, feeling, or even acknowledging. But I know that writing about it will help me, and I hope that by me being open about it here, my personal struggle  might help someone else too.

Right now, I'm in about my third month of going off anti-depressants. I have been on this drug for several years, for many reasons that I won't get into here. The drug itself isn't really important, unless you, as a reader, would like more information for personal support or help as you go off it too. (Comment or email me.) What matters is that stopping medication like this is hard, even when you do it responsibly and slowly.

And unless you have experienced it yourself, you probably won't understand. But please try, because you probably know several people who have either gone through this, or will at one time or another, even if they have never told you about it.

People take anti-depressants for many reasons. Depression can be chronic, and it can be temporary. It can be mild and it can be severe, or somewhere in between. It affects people differently. It can have environmental causes and genetic causes. It also often comes hand in hand with ugly friends, like anxiety, addictions, PTSD, eating disorders, paranoia, bi-polar, CFS, and more. People with chronic physical illnesses also often struggle with depression.

Some people with depression find that medication is helpful enough to them that they are happy to stay on it long term, or even for life. And there's nothing wrong with this, if it's right for you. However, others, like me, may in time decide that it's not a permanent necessity. Sometimes a change in circumstances, relationships, diet, lifestyle, or even location can make medication no longer a must. For some, the side effects might be worse than the benefits. Others simply don't like the feeling of taking any kind of mind-altering drug.

Personally, I have been wanting to stop taking my anti-depressants for about two years, but the timing was never really right before. Doctors warn you not to stop medication like this during the fall or winter months, because, even if you don't suffer from SAD (season affective disorder), like I do from time to time, on top of depression, most people still find withdrawal harder when there's less sunlight.

You could say that when I started cutting back on my medication, it kind of happened by accident. I would forget to take pills, and eventually simply started taking one instead of two every day, or every other day, anyway. Then I made the decision to leave the UK and move home. As soon as I made that decision, one that had been a long time coming, I knew it was the right time to officially go off my meds. After all, I wouldn't be able to get them for free anymore anyway!

The first few months were easy. I cut back by half a dose and flew through weeks without really feeling any withdrawal symptoms aside from dizziness and a little trouble concentrating. But after I had cut down to around 10 mg (1/4 dose) every two days, I was starting to feel a few more of the 'crazies.'

The hardest part about withdrawal for me has been determining the difference between symptoms and reality. Since I've been back in the US, I have felt more myself than I have in years. I've been happy almost all the time, and I know that all of this is reality, sweet reality. I am a truer me than I have ever been.

However, withdrawal symptoms sometimes mean I feel anxiety, panic, and paranoia, for no apparent reason. Mostly it's the anxiety that gets to me. I am currently generally a very relaxed and calm person who is happy to be home and happy to be alive. But the anxiety comes right on schedule every few days when I'm due for a tiny dosage. I hate the feeling because I know it means my mind is still being controlled by the meds, even though it's such a small amount. I want complete control of my mind back.

Tonight I feel anxious about things that I know are true, but my altered mind wants to tell me are not. I also feel weepy, like something is wrong, even though I know that nothing really is. In fact, nothing in my life has been more right for going on eight years. But believing all of this is hard right now, right this second. I will go to sleep in an hour or so and I'll wake up okay again and go about my business fairly happily. But tonight--tonight I feel crappy. And I don't like feeling crappy. I want my happy back right now.

There are some things I can do to ease my symptoms, but sometimes when I'm anxious, I don't think to do them, or don't feel like doing them. Occupying my mind by reading, or writing like I am now, is often a good choice. Exercise helps too, especially if I can get outside to do it. Deep breathing and meditation are also extremely helpful.And connecting with other people. I'm grateful to be in a place now where I feel I can connect with so many people, and I am nearer to a lot of people who care about me. I've not had that support network in a long time.

I know that this blog isn't going to solve my problems, and it's not going to solve anyone else's. But I feel better for having said what I've said, and I hope that something, anything, in here helps someone else too.

I have to keep reminding myself that I'm a stronger person now than I have ever been, and I know deep down that I can handle life without these pills. I will not let this kick me. I will not let anything stop me from being my best self, and reaching for all the good I can find. I am better than my worst fears and my darkest hours.

Oh, and poetry always helps too--


"Acquanited With The Night"
by Robert Frost

I have been one acquainted with the night.
I have walked out in rain—and back in rain.
I have outwalked the furthest city light.

I have looked down the saddest city lane.
I have passed by the watchman on his beat
And dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain.


I have stood still and stopped the sound of feet
When far away an interrupted cry
Came over houses from another street,


But not to call me back or say good-by;
And further still at an unearthly height,
One luminary clock against the sky

Proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right.
I have been one acquainted with the night.