This Isn't Working
I took my last hit of Prozac at the end of September, after twelve years of pretty steady on-and-off mainlining of the stuff, and the last molecule of it drained out of my brain around the middle of December. I stopped because Prozac wasn't working: I didn't exactly feel depressed, but the constant low-grade buzz of dissatisfaction with my work and my marriage wasn't going away so I thought I'd try something else, and in order to assess whether that something else was working or not I had to strip all the paint and wallpaper down to the bare sheetrock. So now I'm trying cognitive therapy, and homeopathic treatments with a reportedly gifted (we'll see) doctor, and prayer, and working my al-anon steps, and writing my blog.
But none of it's working.
I wake up every day scared of the work ahead of me, certain that I'm not going to pull off either of my scripts, guilty about my treatment of my wife and irritated at her for her treatment of me and right back to guilt again for being irritated. My brain is such a swirl that I don't even know what's true on the simplest factual level. Do my wife and I get along wonderfully or are we miles apart? Is our sex life going through a relative downswing in the big picture of things and actually way better than my depressed thinking will allow, or is it doomed? Am I a successful writer tackling a couple of challenging scripts or am I a hack once again trapped in projects I have no idea how to carry off?
There's more evidence in support of the good than the bad on all the above counts, but one of the insidious aspects of OCD is that in the shadowy, Kafka-esque courtroom of the brain the evidence for the prosecution is always admissable while the evidence for the defense is invariably struck down. (Yes: you DID kill an Italian climber, and the fact that the entire fantasy is preposterous is BESIDE THE POINT!) The worst part is that when I look back in my journal, which I've been keeping for 6 years now, almost daily, I invariably see that I was writing about the same grinding conundrums in 2000 that I'm writing about now. And when I see that, you know what I feel?
Panic.
Right now I feel lousy in a way that I can't see any way out of.
Except, check this out: I wanted to close this with an old entry from my journal to prove that I've been in this same intractable state forever and that all is bleak in all directions, but in fact on this date five years ago, 3/7/01, I just found this entry:
But none of it's working.
I wake up every day scared of the work ahead of me, certain that I'm not going to pull off either of my scripts, guilty about my treatment of my wife and irritated at her for her treatment of me and right back to guilt again for being irritated. My brain is such a swirl that I don't even know what's true on the simplest factual level. Do my wife and I get along wonderfully or are we miles apart? Is our sex life going through a relative downswing in the big picture of things and actually way better than my depressed thinking will allow, or is it doomed? Am I a successful writer tackling a couple of challenging scripts or am I a hack once again trapped in projects I have no idea how to carry off?
There's more evidence in support of the good than the bad on all the above counts, but one of the insidious aspects of OCD is that in the shadowy, Kafka-esque courtroom of the brain the evidence for the prosecution is always admissable while the evidence for the defense is invariably struck down. (Yes: you DID kill an Italian climber, and the fact that the entire fantasy is preposterous is BESIDE THE POINT!) The worst part is that when I look back in my journal, which I've been keeping for 6 years now, almost daily, I invariably see that I was writing about the same grinding conundrums in 2000 that I'm writing about now. And when I see that, you know what I feel?
Panic.
Right now I feel lousy in a way that I can't see any way out of.
Except, check this out: I wanted to close this with an old entry from my journal to prove that I've been in this same intractable state forever and that all is bleak in all directions, but in fact on this date five years ago, 3/7/01, I just found this entry:
Wonderful wonderful lovemaking this morning. Flowing from the idea of making (wife's name here) feel good in ways that she likes, not ways that I want her to like.
I'll enter that in evidence and see if the judge will cut me a break this time. Because right there is illumination in an area where I could definitely use some illumination right about now.
posted by Tom at 8:20 AM
5 Comments:
I think it took my brain about six months to be completely free of anti depressants, that's why I got hit so hard this past December.
I know what you mean, Tom. I've got numerous journals and my previous blog, all full of the same crap I'm gong through now. What's the saying? Same ol' shit.....
Recently I looked at my blog and thought the same thing: this just isn't working!
But when I really dug down deep and asked myself why, it turned out to be because I was afraid of what my readers would think of the truth, were I to write it. So, I asked myself, is this for me or for them?
Now, I'm not suggesting that worries about your readership are the problem... I'm just saying, have you really asked and answered yourself honestly? I promise, you'll feel better if you have...
I have one question. Why did you not try a different medicine after quitting the Prozac? My understanding is that Prozac (and other SSRI's) can plateau. Aren't there some newer drugs that are really effective in treating OCD? Homeopathic is great if it works. It doesn't sound like it is, though. Maybe you should try something stronger. You can always discontinue it if it doesn't help.
Regardless, hang in there.
Flip--
Oh I will definitely try another medication if the homeopathic approach doesn't help. I'm just giving it a chance to work, and if it doesn't, I am back on the pills in a hot minute.
Bigg--
The "is it for me or for them" question: ai ai ai. If it's only for me, why not just stick with the journal I've been keeping for years? I think it needs to be both--using the "them" as a kind of incentive to really deliver the honest goods--if only for the entertainment value of the emotional striptease.
Anna--
Hope that rib is healing steadily.
It is painful and difficult to expose your vulnerabilities, insecurities, and failures to yourself and almost impossible to let others view sometimes, I applaud you.
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