My Adventures in Anxiety Part 2: Drug Withdrawal Hell

It was January. A new year. Our European travels, Christmas and a family trip were behind us. But my hell was just beginning.

As I wrote about in my last post, My Adventures in Anxiety During the Merriest Time of the Year , I had started a pretty heavy-duty drug, that was classified as an antipsychotic, to get through the anxiety I had about our first trip overseas. We ended up having a great time and in January I was ready to go back to just my run of mill anti-depressant. It had served me well and I knew for my regular life it was all I needed.

Not really consulting with Dr. Husband Robert, I thought I could quit cold turkey. Just stop taking the very pretty blue capsule. So that’s what I did.

The night of my first try, without warning, I woke with the weirdest jolt. An almost electric, panicky feeling that I’d never felt before. Even with anxiety, I was a pretty good sleeper. I loved to sleep. I took joy in it. It was naps and sleeping in that were therapy.

But that night, after only a couple of hours of sleep, I was wide awake and feeling weird. I somehow knew, it was because of that dumb pill. It had already bound itself to my life, my ability to sleep and to my waking hours. I learned very fast it wasn’t going to go quietly.

My husband was perplexed. He said he had never seen a patient with this kind of dependency in just 4 weeks of usage. After a few days it would be out of my system and I could go back to normal right?

Wrong.

I continued to try to the cold turkey and brave it out. I did not sleep for two weeks. Each day I thought, surely, I would feel better and be able to sleep. But with each new day and long night of harrowing withdrawal symptoms, I became despondent. I was beyond any kind of tired I had ever felt, I had stomach pains, nausea, tremors, restlessness and heart palpitations daily.

I know people that function on very little sleep. I’m not one of those. The ability to not sleep at night or nap during the day, even when I was totally bone-weary, was beyond by ability to comprehend or cope with. I began to resent my bed for taunting me with comfort and bringing me none. I would try to sleep on the floor, the couch, anything! But sleep did not come. The days were so long. The nights were unbearable.

I wanted to die

I wanted to close my eyes and never open them again and be out of pain. I thought about my sweet mother-in-law who had passed away the year before. I wanted to go be with her, see her smile and feel her embrace. I’ve never thought about it so much before.

I was a non-functioning mother and wife. At the time I had to drive my son to school every day. It was all I could muster to make the 10 min. drive and get home again. I look back now and I think having to drop him off and pick him up every day probably saved my life. He still needed me.

After a few of the longest weeks of my life, out of desperation, I took the shiny blue capsule again. A full dose. That night I slept 8 hrs. I felt like a new person, but now I was in a quandary

Do I stay on this for the rest of my life just so I can function? I did not want to but I thought about it. I was sleeping but still felt so unlike myself. My spark was gone. I was not eating, still nauseated and depressed. I could not remember what it was like to feel good. I decided to wean off it in the absolute slowest way I could.

Under Robert’s direction, we divided the capsule the best we could and I slowly took less and less until I was weaned. After weeks of trial and error, and excruciating withdrawal symptoms I was off the drug. I was done. I was now taking Ambien to sleep but I was a somewhat functioning human.

The drug was gone so where was my mental health and personality? It was still missing. I could not feel happiness. I felt like a walking shell of myself. I did my mom duties, went to church, taught Sunday School, smiled and I felt like a zombie.

But then, ever so slowly I could feel bits of joy return.

So, so slowly..

Two months later we went on a planned camping trip to Yosemite National Park with my brother and his family. I grew up not far from Yosemite, it was the place of many childhood memories but I had not been there in years. It was a lot of work planning food, packing and getting there. I was exhausted after the long drive and setting up camp.

The mountains, the river, the waterfalls and fresh air were what my soul needed. I hiked, walked, and sat in the sun with my feet in the cold, slow moving river. Inhaling the beauty of my surroundings I could feel my soul, my inner happiness returning. I felt real and lasting glimpses of “me” for the first time in 6 months.

Mother Nature was the kick in the butt my body needed. I have never stopped thanking Her for that.

I learned so much about myself that year. I learned to be grateful for things that I took for granted like sleep and health. I gained an appreciation for those with addictions and the inability to quit.

I then started on a journey to find myself again and what I really wanted to be when I grew up.

I continued on my regular antidepressant and got rid of the sleeping pills. I found a therapist I adored and started going regularly. I found out I was not crazy, but that most of my thoughts and feelings were normal.

That year and the ones following have been some of the hardest of my life, my family’s life, and my marriage. But hell if we’re not trying and better people for it.