The other day I had an idea. Oh goody…Dorothy had an idea. These things tend to pop into my head without warning, the good ones do anyway. I decided I was going to cut the dosage of my Sertraline. That’s Zoloft. Remember the commercial with the bouncy ball or egg or whatever it was with the frowny face that wouldn’t come out of his cave because he was depressed until he took his pills and then suddenly all was well for him. That was Zoloft. You don’t see those commercial anymore because there are lawsuits about birth defects and some other things that my brain doesn’t remember because all of these pills have killed the memory center.
I originally decided to do this because I have gained weight recently and the fault must lie in the medication. It can’t be in my overeating because I have IBS and my diet is so restricted it would make any other person go insane. I thought it might be peri-menipause…you know, the menipot that women can get. But it’s so much more fun to cut the pills and see what happens, besides I can always go back on them and I won’t tell my doctor. He’s grumpy enough without me darkening his doorstep.
That’s something else I can’t understand. I’d think he would be thrilled to see me and want to know all about my “exciting” non-existent life or better yet…..my fantasy life. It doesn’t get better than that. But he always seems to act like a kid who has to get blood taken out of his pinkie. I can’t help it that I have to cram six weeks of drama into 20 minutes of time! He just doesn’t want to hear it. So, why am I going then?? Why don’t I just send an email and say…”Hi! Everything fine. Bye. Send prescriptions to pharmacy. ”
Anyway, it has been five days since I cut my dosage in half and I feel great. My depression has gone away and my mania has started to creep in. It is not full blown mania…I don’t get that anyway. I get hypo-mania and I love it. I am able to do more work, organize more things, throw out more junk, and just feel better.
In conclusion, medications are good to a degree and we all have a balance that we need to find and in my case it changes throughout the year. I know myself better than anyone does. I wish I had a doctor that would believe what I say and listen to me and not just think I am crazy. The bad part of it all is that I very well could be crazy and come back to this days later and not know what I have written and have no memory of what I have done.
It’s a strange life I live and I keep trying…that’s all I can do.