"When you understand that what you're telling is just a story. It isn't happening anymore. When you realize the story you're telling is just words, when you can just crumble it up and throw your past in the trashcan, then we'll figure out who you're going to be." -Princess Brandy Alexander, Invisible Monsters, Chuck Palahniuk

The Things They Don't Tell You

For three years, I took Effexor XR 300mg/day.

The thing they don't tell you, is you will want to come off of it one day.

I shopped psychotropics, they worked then didn't. When I began the Effexor regimen, it was at a lower dose; we (Dr. and I) kept increasing based on results. How soon until I could get out of bed on my own? How many milligrams until I felt like washing my hair, until I could talk to friends and strangers, could I look them in the face, did I notice they were there? How much until the veil lifted?

I'm not really ready for that part of the past--the how I got there and where did I go. I'm somewhere else now, back to living med-free.

The thing they don't tell you, is if you miss one dose you will be blind-sided by pain, your head will spin, you forget where you are, how to speak, what are the words. If you miss a does you will burst into tears when you see a man miss the bus home after a day of work and try to run it down. When you miss a dose you will forget to get up from bed for hours, maybe even 36.

When you want to come off your medication, you must be desperate, because you are afraid of all the things you've felt when you have missed just one dose.

The thing they don't tell you, is you will gain 90 lbs. You will think you are just getting fat, or eating poorly, until you keep a diet journal and an exercise log and find that you are eating well, you are working out regularly, you are still getting fat. You will get so fat you stop having sex. You will be so fat and numb you forget what sex is. You will be getting married, and wondering if you will ever feel like having sex again. You will watch the pounds continue to pile on. You will become depressed, you will feel helpless against these side-effects from the drug meant to stave off the depression, meant to lift the helplessness. You will find yourself trapped in circular thoughts about the side-effects from this drug that is supposed to rescue you from circular thought. You will feel desperate. You will feel depressed, heavily, so you don't want to leave the house or talk about "how things are going". You will be desperate to have control of your body again, and be off your medication.

The thing they don't tell you is, this process will take at least six months. It will take you more than one month just to stop taking the pills. It is a gradual step down, you go 75mg less per week. Week one is OK, in fact you convince yourself you actually feel better, have more energy, are enthusiastic about life in general. Week two you can't get out of bed, you are an hour and a half late for work because you sleep through your alarm completely, you are forced to tell your boss about the changes taking place. Week three begins the craziness, you have no stable emotions. You cry if you are angry, you cry if you are happy, you cry if you have to talk to someone. In general, this crying continues through weeks four and five. As the process continues you become severely insecure, any word or look can set you off, you feel like a crazy person because you have zero control over the crying or your brain. You throw a radio at a coworker just because you're sick of hearing them speak, forced to leave the building, come back 15 minutes later to apologize and try not to feel humiliated.

As weeks go on, your irritability increases. Your doctor says in six months it will pass, your father gives you a brochure on handling post acute withdrawal; it says avoid contact with stressful situations. Your irritability and levels of anxiety lead you to believe contact of any kind with the rest of the world is a stressful situation.

The thing they don't tell you, is when you come off the drug you will suffer physical side-effects. You will be dizzy for days at a time, you will have migraines daily, you will have tremors and shake, your ankles will become too swollen to walk for no reason and you assume it must be some kind of detox process, the same goes for the intense pains in your gallbladder and liver. Your PMS will increase. You will spend days sick to your stomach.

Fast forward, months four and five, you think you may be normal. You aren't bright and cheery, but you think you've stepped back into life, constant emotional chaos is dropped into the deep. Move forward, step out. You haven't felt sick in a while, so it seems all withdrawal symptoms have dissipated. So in month six you are blind-sided when crowds make you hyperventilate, when loud places leave you nauseous, when left stressed and teary-eyed by any change ups (like a summer vacation) in your routine.

The thing they don't tell you, is you're left wondering if you'll always be damaged, the forever recovering addict, after your stint on the medication.

The thing they can' tell you, is if you are cured.

On Second Thought; more ruminations about "25 random facts" on Facebook

Maybe we are all exhibitionists, or even worse, masochists. Sending out these intimate details, to varying degrees, for at least 25 people, maybe sometimes more to read. What possesses us? Many people may find this read uncomfortable, and even further, find the task of sending out their own fifteen details to 25 people, completely unfathomable. So is there something different about those of us who decide to share, something similar in eachother, something unfulfilled and somehow untouchable to ourselves? What makes us send those desperate and individual details out? And who sends them? Individuals looking to make connections with new and interesting people? Or individuals who feel like, somehow in the past, they have been withdrawn? Or, those who always look for a way to some how say how important they are? A million different ways to perceive the ways we answer the task of the Facebook chain letter to put our 25 facts out on the line. Especially remember, it is not just the 25 people you tag who have access to your details, but anyone who you have befriended on facebook will get notice of your "note" and be able to read the details you share. Are you truthful? Is it who you are now, or someone you used to be?

Pondering the sharing of "25 Random Facts" on Facebook

The sun is shining. It's 37 degrees. The 12+ inches of snow are starting to give way in the daylight. The icicles are melting from the tin awning, and as I watch the dog do his business from the back door I stick my bare toes into the melting drops of frigid slush. The grass is coming out in the path we shovelled so Diego could go out with out his head below snow level.

I am used to keeping a journal, writing pen to blank paper, always in black ink. Writing nothing or everything as the days pass into months. My adjustment to a blog is slow going, an internal, somewhat irrational and rather unexplained aversion to turning on the computer.

On facebook there is a tag going on, sort of like a chain letter. Someone writes 25 items about themselves, then sends it to 25 people asking them to reply with their own list but also send it to 25 people themselves. Matt thinks facebook is silly in general, and particularly this exercise, but I explained I see the point. All these connections, and how much do we know about eachother. The random status reports, posted links and videos or songs, group invitations, games to save the rainforest--but almost noone uses their notes. Almost noone talks about themselves or gives more than the briefest details about the days of their lives.

The lists vary. There are those who become rather personal and give heavy details, and those who give brief and general points.
It can be terrifying, exposing the "heavy" details to people in your electronic world, who you may be used to saying hi to, but maybe you haven't seen or spoken to them in years. How much truth do you lay out?

Being a writer can be an active bravery--to let go of the truth, release it out there, and go on with your days. I have seen some send their notes only to erase them and start over, maybe fearing that the intimate facts they listed are just to intimate to really let people know.

I wrote mine twice. The first time they evaporated into blackness when I hit post on my father's mac and the connection broke down. I wrote them a second time, a week later when I felt up to the task again. It is not an easy task, breaking out 25 pieces of who you are and typing them out to give to a world of friends who are mainly strangers. I sent it, without a real reread, just a quick check for spelling. I didn't want to get chicken by thinking about them too much. As is, it was a long process, a good two hours of thinking of what to say and how to say it.

I received a few comments already, one of which said it was very brave of me to send them. Bravery, it made me think, what did I really write, what did I really say, what picture of myself did I create?

I reread the notes today, and I noticed that many of the facts I posted were very heavy, and maybe things that people usually think of as secrets, things that we don't talk about in regular conversation--but then, that was the point, wasn't it? This year has brought so many changes in my life, good and bad, and some very difficult. These are the details that would have come up in conversations, that do come up, when I sit and chat and linger with and befriend. The facts are not the whole me, but elements of myself that have made me who I am. While one person tells me it is brave (someone who knows me more than the others on my send list) I could get nervous, I could freak out and worry that I shared too much. But I am a writer, and I am not afraid to put the details out there and then let them go, and perhaps my doing so will help someone else feel like it is ok to open up.

OK, so there was no vacation--then what have I been up to for the Past 3 Months?

Ok, so, 3 months ago I started a new job at Thrifty Threads--and some areas of my life accidentally spun into hiatus.

Shortly after I began working there the manager took Medical leave, never to return. A young gal and friendly co-worker of mine was put to the job of interim, and as I was the only other sane hard work ethics oriented person there, I became her helper--I took on extra duties, helped to revamp the processes of selling clothes, became one with a security code, keys and bank access. I invested myself fully, four days a week, and somehow for a little while, it was a distraction. Here in blogdom I wrote nothing, my email account came to hold around 1500 messages, my journal was getting an entry once every week or two. The only thing I was really doing for me was getting lost in reading novels, which has good points and bad points. Time normally set aside for writing was fed to reading. And I just felt like I was getting fat!

So, first changes: write in that journal again! It's always so painful coming back to daily writings after you have been writing almost nothing--every word seems boring, every entry doomed to lulling you to sleep. Step two--Move your body! Mimi Sosa introduced me to this wonderful Studio in Greenbriar called Mindful Movement where I have been making time for yoga and Cycling classes 3-4 times a week (getting my butt kicked every time!) and I absolutely love it there. And we always hear this is the key, don't we? Make time for yourself, somewhere, somehow--just you and your body and spirit, and it becomes easier to make time for the things in life you care about it.

There's a new manager at Thrifty now, talking about getting the big bosses to give me a raise if I continue to help out with management duties at the store, and I have put my journal first before going to read the novels, and my body is getting stronger in ways that I can feel and see.

So this is refocusing, again, and in many positive ways and with successes already gained.

Um, I was on Vacation???

Don't yell at me!

Hush, it's alright, you're ok.

I know, but, it's just so awful
Well, then just don't do it again.
I'm so horrible at change. A job, hours of difference in routine, I loose track, like time doesn't exist.

Well what can you do to change that.

I don't know, try to be conscious of everyday?

What does it mean to be conscious everyday, how will that be different?

I don't know.

You do somewhere, or you wouldn't of said something like that.
What are you talking about?

Why you dreamily go through hours of unconsciousness, why you put yourself under the bed and live it all in some day job and then grumble?

It's changing.

It's changed before.

Ok it's changing again.

And this time will be different?
Of course, yes, right?

Of course, I guess.

My Feet

Are sore.

I can feel my pulse beating in my back.

My nails

Have dust under them.

Today I found a Donna Karan NY dress

Black Label

and Beautiful

and marked it for $14.99.

Size 8, floor length and sheer.

My take home prize

was a discarded

(I mean donated)

Red Long and skinny photo album

full of pictures from 1970.

Family photos and dog photos

graduations, bar mitvahs, and vacations to Israel.

One girl will be a character in the future.

I forgot to buy the bulletin board to

post her picture on.

My feet are sore

until my brain is numb.

The heat in Indiana

is hot enough to make the bugs flake apart.

There are also baby pictures

and a trip to Montreal

a high school graduation.