Manic Depressive… that’s what they say I am. For everything I’ve been through in my life, I will just say I have gotten to a point where I was mentally unstable. Every doctor I would see would prescribe me with something that they thought, at the time would stabilize me. I’ve been on
- sertraline (Zoloft)
- fluoxetine (Prozac, Sarafem)
- citalopram (Celexa)
- escitalopram (Lexapro)
- paroxetine (Paxil, Pexeva, Brisdelle)
- fluvoxamine (Luvox)
Not to mention 1mg of Xanax twice a day. By last year, I believe I was on about 3 antidepressants and a couple of things for anxiety. I was awalking zombie. I was at a point in my life where I had no feelings. I literally could not feel a thing. I had no emotions. Nothing was there. I was just a walking body. Nothing mattered. I was completely brain dead, nerve dead,whatever dead… I couldn’t feel. My marriage was crumbling. My kids didn’t wantto be around me. I didn’t want to be around me.
My husband and I would argue, well he would argue because Ididn’t care at all about anything he was talking about. I didn’t care. I was atthe point where I wasn’t intimate with him. I expected him to go out and find achick and have sex with her. I wasn’t giving it to him. I didn’t understand whyhe wasn’t cheating on me. I didn’t understand why he wouldn’t leave me, until one night I heard him praying for me (he still doesn’t know that I heard himpraying for me). That night sent me in a rage. We argued until 4:00 in the morning. I had enough. Yes, me, I was the one that had enough and didn’t knowwhat I had enough of.
I took every pill bottled that had anything to do with anxiety and depression and I flushed it. That was the beginning of my death sentence. Anyone who is on daily medications for anxiety and depression and the amount and dosage I was on, knows that the doctor SPECIFICALLY tells you that you MUST be weaned off of the medication. You cannot stop taking those pills coldturkey.
Day one without taking my meds, I felt fine, just a slight headache but I was good. As time went on, I began to lose my mind. It was evenworse than before. I was a mad woman. I was yelling, crying, throwing things,throwing up, wasn’t eating, having chills, diarrhea, chest pains, migraines,weak, suicidal… must I go on? My husband didn’t know what was going on with meand our arguments were getting worse, but I was beginning to use the little bitof strength I had to fight.
I realized was killing myself so that I could save my marriage.I knew that if I stopped being doped up, I would become the woman he fell inlove with. The woman with a big heart. The woman who put others before she putherself. The woman who cried while watching Disney movies. The woman who lovedto laugh, who had fears. The woman who loved to be affectionate and passionatein and out of the bed room. The woman who loved her children more than sheloved herself. But most importantly, the woman who FEARED, TRUSTED, AND LOVED GOD with all her mind, body and soul. So, I made a promise to myself and to myCreator that if I could kill this demon that had taken over me and that wouldfeed off of the medication that was prescribed to me, I wouldn’t look back. Iwould be the woman God called me to be.
Things began to change. My husband began to see the change. So,it was time to tell him that I was alive and I could have died but God kept me.All he kept saying was that he wished he would have known that I was withdrawing etc, etc but I had to explain that what I did was something that Ihad to do on my own. He needed to know that I killed myself to save my marriage.