The Quiet

In the small amount of down time in between 2 birthday parties today and Easter tomorrow, I'll try to get some things down on the screen before I forget the details.

In the last week of March, I got a letter from my new insurance saying that they wanted to switch my antidepression meds to another one. My doctor's office got a similar letter and called me to see if I wanted to make the switch. I was only speaking to the PA who told me that the version the company wanted me to have was a generic version of what I was already on. So I agreed. I've had great luck in the past with generics, so why not?

When I went to pick up my refill I asked the tech if the new rx was the generic of my old rx. She said no. That my original rx did not have a generic alternative. I felt cold run down my body, which is my normal anxiety attack response. I asked to speak to the pharmacist. When he came over to me, I told him that I was very nervous about switching the meds since my original works so well and it has taken me years to get to the right rx and the right dose. It is not something that I want to mess with. Well, he kind of blew me off, telling me not to worry, the 2 are similar and I shouldn't have any trouble.

When I left the pharmacy I was thinking to myself, "You can sure tell that pharmacist doesn't have depression, or know someone who does because he wouldn't have taken my fears so lightly."

I began taking the new meds that night.

It started by my weird dreams. I have vivid dreams the majority of the time, but nothing like these. Not really scary, but very odd and elemental with fire, water, air and such. I haven't ever had dreams like that before. I mentioned them to Chris and wondered if they had something to do with the full moon. (Clue 1)

Then, on Monday, I was loading my car to take our recycling and all of a sudden, I had had it! I came in the house called my mom and told her that I needed a bigger car, that I'm sick of the one that I have and that living my life like this is ridiculous. (Clue 2)

On Tuesday, I called my sister for the number of her housekeeper. My house is a mess and there is no way that I can keep up with it. We need to move. We need a bigger house. I'm a slob and I don't know how to clean anyway so why torture myself? (Clue 3)

On Wednesday I didn't get up when everyone else did. I had to get the kids ready for pics that day with their cousins. I acted like I was sleeping everytime Chris walked into the bedroom. (Clue 4)

While talking to my best friend Joe on the phone, I started bawling. And I'm not a crier. This is the day before my birthday which is my favorite day of the year. I know that I'm not crying about getting older. He keeps asking, "What is going on? What's wrong?" and I answer over and over, "I don't know, I don't know what's wrong with me. I hate everything. Nothing feels good. Everything feels dirty. (Clue 5)

By the time Chris got home around 645, I wasn't talking. I was pissed off. As soon as he walked in the door, I went to bed. No explanations. No words. I slept like the dead. (Clue 6)

The next morning, I get up at 3, go to the office at 430. a.m. (Clue 7) I come home at 7, still not forming any words and crawl back to bed. With the covers over my head. Chris stands by the bed and says, "What's wrong?" I tell him to leave me alone and not talk to me. I don't want to talk, don't want to see anyone. I'm scary.

And then, as I'm replaying my conversation with Joe in my head, it finally hits me. My meds. This is how I feel when I'm sick. This is how I feel when my meds don't work. I have felt this way before. The one quote that sticks with me is, "Everything feels dirty." When I had my very first diagnosis of clinical depression in my early 20s I went in because it was 3 in the morning and I was cleaning the edges of my tub and bathroom floor with a toothbrush. I kind of knew I was over the edge with that one.

A quick call in to my Dr. and he calls me right away. Stop taking the new meds right now. He's faxing in a rx for my old meds as we speak. Come in to see him in 2 weeks or sooner if I'm not markedly better. Hallelujah, someone who takes me and my illness seriously!

At that point I could see that I would feel better. I rummaged in my purse and found 2 pills from an old rx that I took right then. Then I called Chris. In 7 years, (with the exception of our infertility trials) he hadn't ever seen me that bad. The first thing he said was, "Thank God." He then went on to say how it was like I was replaced by someone else. That it scared him to see me so incapacitated. I had told him that before my meds, I would spend days in bed, not talking, staying out of the light, not eating.

What scared me the most was how it happened so fast without my noticing. It was the little red flags that just didn't add up. But there were so many. I have been healthy for so long that no one around me now knows what to watch for. So I talked to Chris about it to have another set of eyes monitoring me, just in case.

I feel so much better. Not only because of the new meds since they will take some time to build back up, but because I know I will feel better. That I named the problem and I'm fixing it. I love getting back to being myself. That other woman is not me, thankfully. I'm also very proud that during this first episode while being a mommy, I knew enough to stay away from the kids. To know that I was in a toxic mode that they did not need to be exposed to. Proud and grateful for keeping them safe the best that I knew how.