Well, that sucked. 

I went from that antsy, trapped, gotta-run-gotta-get-away feeling to the worst depression I think I have ever gone through.  And when I crashed, I crashed hard and fast.  On a Friday I was doing the 30 Day Shred, laughing and joking and having fun.  Still feeling frantic, yes, but happy.  Saturday I was down.  Seriously down.  Sunday I told S I wasn't sure my anti-depressants were working right, congratulating myself on catching it quickly and telling him at the beginning this time, unlike the last time when I waited until I was damn near suicidal before saying anything.  We agreed I'd call my doctor the next day to discuss my medication.

A quick word about that - I'd been on Effexor, and shortly before Christmas we'd increased my dose - doubling it.  When my doctor wrote the new script he wrote it for the generic version.  I'd been on the name brand.  I used up the pills I had on hand, taking 2 a day, which lasted me through Christmas.  I was great - the new dose was perfect, I had no issues.  When I filled the new prescription, the pharmacist called me to confirm that I was okay moving to the generic.  She told me that some people didn't adapt well switching forms of the medication.  Having done it before on a different AD, and thinking of the significant amount of money the generic would save me, I told her to go ahead.

So, on that weekend when I felt my meds weren't doing what they were supposed to, I figured that was the reason.  I thought I would just call my PCP, get him to call a new prescription for the non-generic meds in, and everything would be all peachy again.  But Monday morning I woke up so far down in the pit that I couldn't see out anymore.  And it only got worse from there.  I did manage to call my doctor that day, and start the brand name Effexor the next day.  I made S go to the appointment with me because I wasn't sure I could handle it alone.  I also wasn't sure I was going to make it out of the office unhospitalized.  I couldn't answer that one magic question - the "are you safe to yourself?" in a satisfactory way.  I wasn't actively suicidal, but I was close.  So very close.

The depression eased up a little after a few days on the med.  Not much, but enough that I wasn't wishing not to wake up anymore.  But then I started dealing with a new issue.  Anxiety.  I was so tense and nervous.  I couldn't sit still, I couldn't stop wringing my hands and biting my lips.  I developed new fears.  Talking to people, interacting at all became hard.  I stopped answering the phone.  Even for family - my mother, my sisters, my best friend from 2nd grade... I couldn't talk to any of them.  And I couldn't leave the house.  Which isn't the best situation for a mom - one day Christopher missed school all together because I just could NOT leave the house to take him to school.  We ran out of the kids favorite foods because I couldn't go to the grocery store.  Every time one of the kids walked out the door I had to calm myself down.  I felt like I couldn't breathe if I had to answer the door.

Well - you get the picture.  So, I made an appointment with a psychiatrist.  Very nervously.  I don't like psychiatrists.  Not after being committed against my will as a teen.  Not after being abused while I was there.  But my PCP felt over his head with all this and S and I agreed that someone more familiar with psychotropic medications would probably be better at figuring out what I needed to be on.  The appointment went very well.  I didn't even see the psychiatrist,  I saw her PA, who listened to a brief run down and prescribed Wellbutrin to be added to the Effexor.  She said we may discuss weaning off the Effexor in a month when I go back , if the Wellbutrin is working for me, btu I'm not sure I want to mess with anything - if it's working why risk breaking it?

It's been about a week now - which I am sure isn't enough time for the Wellbutrin to have done much, but has been more time for the good Effexor to have more of an effect, and the past day and a half have been amazing.  I woke up yesterday feeling sort of neutral - not depressed, but not me yet either.  By bedtime I was smiling and laughing.  Today?  Today I am me.  Dancing in the kitchen with my husband.  Tickling my son.  Playing Monopoly with my daughter.  (and getting my butt royally kicked too!)  And coming back, finally, to write on my blog.  I'd say I missed it, but I didn't.  Because I was too busy trying to remember why I was bothering to keep breathing to think about writing here.  But I'm sure glad to be back.