More about The Big Wean

Thanks for everyone's thoughts and concerns, both on and off this blog, about my decision to take myself off of Lexapro.

It's hard to get all of the pros and cons, all of the thought processes that go on behind a decision, down on 'paper,' as it were. So it is with this process. And I can't even begin to try to rectify that. But I can share a little bit of what's been going on.

When I first started weaning, about a month ago, I was on 20 mg of the stuff. I am now down to taking 10 mg two out of every three days. Next week, if things continue to seem fairly smooth to me, I'm going to go down to taking 10 mg every other day. (You can't say I'm rushing things. Or maybe you can, but I'd laugh at you, because there are SNAILS that move more quickly than I am in doing this. Not that snails take antidepressants, or wean themselves from same. Hmm. Maybe I need a new analogy...)

Here is what I've noticed:

• The previously nearly omnipresent Malaise is almost completely gone. I have had only one oh-my-go-I-*must*-nap-right-now-or-I'll-die day in the last month, and that came after a night of badly interrupted sleep when Snug was in the hospital last week. It was also, perhaps not coincidentally, the day after the night that I forgot to take the B6/B12 combo I put myself on when I started this wean, in the hopes of keeping stress levels down a bit.
  
  
• I haven't needed a Xanax since just I got down to 10 mg daily, despite the fact that, during that time, there's been Bad Dad News, Bad Dog News, and Hellish Work Situations. That thrills me.
  
  
• I got my period the other day, and Baroy was literally--almost open-mouthedly--shocked to find that out. Normally, my period is preceded by bloodied, headless bodies strewn about wherever I go. This time, it was preceded by a vague feeling of annoyance at people who don't do what I want. In other words, it was business as usual in my psyche.
  
  
• I used the phrase "it's all good" in describing what was nothing more--but certainly nothing less--than a nice, pleasant Mother's Day. Because it was all good, and I felt just fine. I had time with my kids; I had time by myself. We had brunch out at IHOP; I cooked dinner in and served it on our 'good' plates. Em and I took a walk together; N and I cuddled before bed. N made me a sparkly beaded keychain in kindergarten; Em and her friend J created their own 'cosmetic company' in the days leading up to Mother's Day and gave both me and J's mom some sparkly, smelly hand lotion they'd made out of different lotions they collected, along with some home-made 'perfume.' (I'm afraid to ask what the perfume is made of. It's in a water bottle that has a tack in the cap; you take the tack out to dribble some perfume on your wrists. Creative, no?) What's not to love about a day like that? And yet, in my increasingly jumpy, increasingly malaise-y pre-wean days, I probably could have found something not to love.
  

The only downside thus far has been an increase in irritability--I feel like I'm snapping a little bit more, though the "I didn't know you'd gotten your period" thing makes me think I'm hiding it fairly well, at least from Baroy--and a bit more emotional vulnerability. For instance, an incident with Em last week actually had me in tears, because my feelings got hurt. I don't think I've *had* feelings in the past few years, and certainly not ones that were strong enough to get hurt and make me cry. But the thing is, I handled it. We talked. We cried. We made up. We moved on. You know, like normal people. Me. Acting like normal people. Weird.

I never expected to be on drugs forever. This feels like the right time to do this. I can't explain all the reasons why--and they're not all completely rational or reasonable, though some of them are--but it's working so far. And if it doesn't? If it all blows up in my face?

Well, then tell all your friends to come and watch. If I'm going to go down in flames, I might as well do it with some truly impressive stats behind me.