Should I stay (off), or should I go (back on)

After nearly three weeks, the choice was clear

I stopped taking my antidepressant this month.

It wasn’t a planned breakup.

It accidentally happened on a family vacation to Walt Disney World.

There may be a few people who’d tell me skipping my mood-altering medication at one of the busiest places on the planet may not have been the best timing.

I’d say: Is there a “best time” to quit taking my medications cold turkey?

Even the most seasoned Disney nerd, like me, can occasionally use emotional assistance at The Most Magical Place On Earth. The long hours. The endless walking. The mobs of crazy people, many of whom didn’t pack their patience or enough Advil to get through it all.

In my case, I had plenty of Advil—just no Citalopram.

For the first time in 20 years, my antidepressant didn’t make it into my travel medication haul.

I have one of those daily pill organizers to help me through the week when I travel; I manage without it at home. I’m holding onto my youth as long as I can.

The portable pharmacy is a great tool, but only if stocked correctly. Neither my husband nor I bothered to double-check the count before we left. This isn’t our first rodeo.

When my husband came into the living room on the second night of the trip looking mildly freaked out, I asked him what was wrong.

“Um, I think we forgot your Citalopram,” he said quietly, waiting for my reaction. Like Forrest Gump’s box of chocolates, he never knows what he’s gonna to get.

I sat in silence for a few seconds. “Huh.”

Apparently, one of the pills made it into the Saturday container. I guess it didn’t want to miss all the vacation fun. The rest said, “Nah, we’ll hold down the fort.”

I think we were both surprised by my lack of panic. It was a shock for me, at least. Jon’s usually calm about everything: the yin to my holy-shit-what-now yang.

I’ve only gone off my medication one other time, and that was more than 15 years ago.

I had been on Effexor for a couple of years while living in Maine, but unpleasant side effects informed me it was time to switch. I convinced my doctor to allow me to change medications. He asked me to stop taking the Effexor, and we’d introduce me to something new.

So, I just stopped.

When you Google “side effects effexor withdrawal,” the first entry to show up is “Help is Available” and the 988 suicide crisis hotline.

That’s not a joke. That is one of the most accurate things I’ve read online.

In 2004 or 2005, though, Google was not accessible on my flip phone, which I used to call Jon from the mall parking lot because I was curled up and couldn’t function.

And that was only after 48 hours of stopping my medication.

Flash forward to a few weeks ago when I ran through my options. I thought of calling my doctor or my pharmacy to see if I could figure out how to get a new set of pills down here. I thought of calling my oldest daughter at home to try to send me the meds, but that would take at least a couple of days.

So…I made the logical choice to try not to stress about it and wait until I got home. It would only be a few days.

Stay with me. It’s going to be ok.

I waited for the ticking time bomb to explode somewhere on It’s a Small World or The Tower of Terror because they seemed the most likely place for the meltdown.

It didn’t happen.

Maybe it was because I was already stressed due to my weight gain and worried it would affect my family’s vacation. Somehow, I mentally and physically got through it. We had a good time!

During the trip, I noticed something unusual. I began to experience a sense of clarity that had been unknown to me for years. I felt like a fog was fading in my brain.

That’s common for people using antidepressants. The medication is designed to keep patients on an even keel. Many times that translates into a dulling sensation across the board. It had been so long since I had been without it that I forgot what my brain experienced without it.

I liked that feeling.

By the time we got home from vacation, I had been off the medication for 7 nights— well past the point where it is supposed to stay in the system.

Which is why when I got home from vacation, I didn’t restart my medication.

I checked in with my doctor and told her what had happened and the new clarity. We agreed I could keep going without the medication, but I needed to monitor my emotions, and we’d reconnect at my next appointment.

Two days later, I started feeling physically ill—headaches, dizziness, fatigue. The clarity I enjoyed for the past week gave me a reality check when emotions had a sharp edge. Whether I was happy, sad, or angry, I felt them MORE. Was that bad? I’m not sure. It made me uneasy because I wasn’t used to it.

By last Friday, the 20-day mark since I stopped taking my meds, I felt sick enough that I thought I had COVID (nope), and all the emotions were hovering at the surface.

Or, as my therapist said, “You’re right on the edge.”

It’s better than being over the edge, but that’s not a ringing endorsement from someone I trust.

I left her office feeling ok but wondering what needed to happen next. My therapist said while my body may have almost entirely processed the drug, it likely isn’t done adapting to life without it.

The weekend had my mind playing ping pong about what I should do. Stay off antidepressants or go back on them.

By Monday, my lack of brain fog helped me to make a clear choice.

I contacted my doctor again and said maybe I needed to get back on medication because my physical and mental health is more important than feeling a little fuzzy. I did ask if there was an alternative to what I was taking to see if I could still hold on to some of the clarity but dull the sharpness just a little.

We’re trying a new medication.

I’m a couple of days into it, and so far, I feel fine. Most of my physical symptoms were due to a nasty cold—great timing, as always.

March walked in like a lamb, roared like a lion with a thorn in his paw for a couple of weeks in the middle, and is exiting stage left a little wounded but getting stronger every day.

What else is going on?

Wait, Marie. There’s more?

Yeah. Even though March was an emotional roller coaster, I got some shit done:

Reading Challenge

I added a couple of more books to my 2024 Reading Goal:

• “Eat, Pray, Love” by Elizabeth Gilbert

• “How to Walk into a Room: The Art of Knowing When to Stay and When to Walk Away” by Emily P. Freeman.

This brings me to 8 books complete! 16 to go to hit my 24-book goal!

I am also about to finish “The Body is Not An Apology: The Power of Radical Self-Love” by Sonya Renee Taylor.

All of these books came into my life at a time when I started working deliberately and intensely on self-forgiveness, grace, and actively loving myself as I am right now, even though I’m striving for wellness.

The big lesson from all three books: There will be no wellness without fully accepting myself.

I’ll be sharing some thoughts on all of these on social media. Stay tuned.

Writing

I have made a significant shift with my memoir, diving into new scenes that address where the slide in my health journey started and what it means. I have felt myself resist this work, but I’m handling it with care.

Temperature Blanket

She’s getting too big to put on the table anymore. I started the 5th row already! This is the longest time I’ve stuck with a craft project, and it’s meeting all my needs: short bursts of work that add up to something that grows more beautiful.

It is a daily lesson in patience, a necessary visual reminder of all that is good in the end, even when things get tangled and knotted daily.

We made it through March, y’all. I’m looking ahead to April with the hope of spring!