I went to see my pdoc on Thursday and my intentions were to discuss medications with him. I toyed with the idea of talking about drinking but knew that it would get me nowhere because of previous discussions, so I kept silent on the issue. Instead I talked with him about cutting out some of my older meds that had lost their effectiveness. Eventually I would like to get off of the Risperdone, the increased Depakote and go back to just my Topamax and smaller dosage of Depakote. I’ll never go off of it completely because it prevents me from having seizures. He wanted to know how I’d been feeling outside of the depression caused from the circumstances I live within and I told him I felt frustrated. It is so difficult to have no control over so much, or at least that’s what it feels like. He was going to agree to take me off of the increased dosage of Depakote but what I really wanted was to be taken off of the Sertraline. I’ve been on that anti-depressant for two years and, lets face it, it doesn’t work well for me. The best I can say about it is it makes me very forgetful. So, it was good when I wanted to forget about things in life that were unattainable, like my husband coming back from the grave or having things from my fantasy world come true. But when I couldn’t remember whether I had just eaten or not or even why and I lived in a house in which I cared for my father who had dementia you can understand how it got to feel a little disconcerting. The odds are already stacked against me that I’ll get Alzheimer’s Disease because my mother had it too and then I live in my little world of dissociation, so I’m not sure if a medication helps me or makes things worse. Already I am losing track of what I am writing. Let me see if I can get back on track at least. Okay so, my pdoc agreed to let me go off of the Sertraline and I was and still am very happy that he said that. I get the chance to see what I will be like without the blanket of forgetfulness thrown over me. I may regret the decision but I don’t care. I think I can take the pain now. It has been 15 months since my husband, Nick, died and he probably wouldn’t recognize me and what I’ve done to myself. He’d forgive me though. So, I can forgive myself too. I know I am still grieving because I really didn’t grieve properly because those medications keep you from grieving. You just rot…you don’t grieve. I can still break into tears like a dam breaking open because I have been kept in some suspended state of animation all of this time. It’s really weird is all I can say.
Sertraline is Zoloft….go bounce your ball back into that cave and stay there…BYE!