MenTaL HeaLtH

"My eyes feel like they're gonna bleed,
Dried up and bulging out my skull.
My mouth is dry, my face is numb.
Fucked up and spun out in my room.
On my own... here we go."

-- Brain Stew, Green Day



Before I first split with Joe, I hired my lawyer. I remember sitting in his office on that first consultation telling him, "Oh, I'm sure Joe will be reasonable. I want Jacob to have both of us."

What ensued was more than a year of Joe topping himself in the asshole department almost daily, and I was stuck with a custody arrangement I offered before I realized what a prick he really was.



It wasn't long after the fireworks erupted that I was funneled into therapy and given prescriptions for Xanax and Zoloft. I readily accepted my fate of having a pseudo-friend to talk to every week because my family and friends would only tell me what an asshole I was for hooking up with Joe in the first place.

Family: Everything is your fault.
Pseudo-friend/therapist: How could you have known that you just met the devil in disguise?

Fast-forward 15 months later... the custody stuff has been resolved, I have a house, I belong to a school district, I get an email from Joe once a month, if that, and it's usually him covering his ass about something like a prescription he had filled for Jacob after I found out about it and picked it up.

When I started the Zoloft, the goal was to get off it as soon as I didn't need it anymore. "Remember what you feel like before you start taking it," the therapist told me. And I did, every day.

The anxiety lately is down to a minimum, and I want to get back to where I was before I even met Joe.

I put it off, but last week I actually started halving my pills, with my doctor's consent. I HAVE BEEN SPIRALING EVER SINCE.

I know this is a temporary condition. When I started the medication, I was told I would be "maybe a little jittery for a week." I felt like I had an IV of caffeine hooked up constantly for three weeks.

But it went away, and I know my current withdrawal symptoms, which are almost quite the opposite, are probably just as fleeting. And worth it, to have been able to SANELY go through months of separation anxiety while I weaned my son rapidly and faced having no idea where or how the boy was 50 percent of the time or more.

Not to mention trying to figure out why Joe sent me emails wondering why there wasn't a better word than "cunt" to describe me or why he told my lawyer he hoped he got a staph infection from all the gay sex he must be having.

But now, I'm confident I am immune to all that, if not safe from receiving much of that kind of vitriol at all for a few years at least. But a week into this withdrawal process, I feel like I'm cramming for a test. Like every little thing I was able to ignore is now magnified. But I tell myself it's better to have it all flood through at once rather than have it dragged out for the past year and a half.

I feel fatigued to the highest degree. It seems the glands in my neck are so swollen that the pain shoots up through my jaw and into my ears. I'm gaining weight, sans appetite. When I eat, I feel sick. I can have diarrhea and constipation AT THE SAME TIME. Ain't that fun.

I'm hot, then I'm cold. Then I'm hot again. Sometimes I'm dizzy. Other times I'm dizzy. But I'm OK if I'm sitting down. If I'm not dizzy.

I can't sleep well. Yet I can't nap.

If I do nap, I'm asleep for half a day.

I got my period early, but remarkably, there are no cramps. However, my body decided it's time to lactate again. Strange things are afoot.

My concentration is OK, but it feels like a quarter of my brain is hollowed out, and that I'm aware I'm making up for it. I get done what I need to get done, but there's no sense of accomplishment or satisfaction. At the same time, nothing anyone else does is good enough for me. There is no real joy, but there is no real sadness either.

I can't cry, even when I read something sad. My eyeballs feel like they are coated in dust.

There was a time (several times, actually) when I first started the Zoloft that I wanted to quit because getting started was so very... painful. It was doing the opposite of what I needed. And I have to remind myself now of the same thing.

Even if it feels like my soul just jumped out of an airplane without a parachute.

Because somehow my head knows I won't let it hit the ground.