#Again though. This might just be the antidepressant withdrawals talking.

[perihel1on]

Currently experiencing something adjacent to post-nut clarity but it's like post-sob clarity where i have been sobbing uncontrollably off and on for the past 12 or so hours and now I feel like I can suddenly see crystal clear what went wrong in the past 1 to 4 years and what I need to do to gather myself together and move forward in my life

[altocat]

Can I have some dark hcs about Babyroth? For research purpose 😇

It's Sephiroth Hurtin' Hours. Let's do this.

Sephiroth was not permitted to get close to other scientists and orderlies after Gast leaves and Hojo takes over. Hojo does everything in his power to effectively isolate Sephiroth so he'll be more reliant on the things Hojo teaches him without outside interference.

As a result, Sephiroth is more than often achingly lonely, only having himself or Hojo to talk to. And since he's so strange and off-putting, most of the other scientists don't really want to talk to him anyway.

The constant isolation, procedures, and general antagonism through Hojo often gives way to terrifying fits of extreme rage and aggression within Sephiroth. While he is generally a skittish and polite child, he will sometimes lash out violently, not caring who he hurts. It doesn't satisfy him though. And he only just gets punished for it later.

There are days when Sephiroth simply refuses to leave his cell at all, lying under his bed balled up and not really talking or moving. He doesn't want to perform. He doesn't want to fight stupid training simulations. He doesn't want to get cut up on Hojo's table. He's just...tired. Tired and hopeless.

When he's in this state, Sephiroth simply withdraws from the world altogether, his eyes glassy and his body scrunched and fetal. He won't sleep or eat, won't really do anything at all. He simply....stops. As if he'd like nothing more than to just curl up and die.

Hojo often has to come to collect him whenever he gets like this, unless it's a severe emergency. There's been a few times where Sephiroth's symptoms have required the help of strong antidepressants, especially if he stops eating. Hojo MIGHT be a bit more lenient during this period, at least until Sephiroth perks up again.

Sephiroth often has periods of being completely nonverbal, mindlessly obeying as commanded, but not really engaging. He's more or less on autopilot.

Lots of the medications prescribed to Sephiroth as a child are further continued during his adult years, but at an even higher dosage. They are cyclical most of the time, per Sephiroth actually needing them.

He seems better when he's with Angeal and Genesis. And the fact that he's occasionally on any medications is kept a massive secret from the public. Not even a single leak on Silver Elite.

Sephiroth often has difficulties dealing with his body due to the many procedures he underwent as a child. Sometimes, he still does feel instinctual needs to react as he did in the past--nonverbal behavior, detaching. He has significantly more control over himself now, but the need is still there.

[spencers-renaissance]

Rain is a Chance to be Touched Ch.15

if we cannot find the light, we will always make our own

Chapter Fourteen

This is the fifteenth chapter in my ongoing hotchreid fic! Please click here for the fic summary, full tags, trigger warnings, more information etc.

Last Chapter: Derek & Emily called Spencer for a consult, and with him off his antidepressants, things very quickly fell apart.

In This Chapter: Hotch & Penelope pick up the pieces.

tw: depression-related exhaustion, disordered thinking, reference to last chapter's breakdown, discussion of medication

Word Count: 4K

RCT Masterlist // Main Masterlist // Read on AO3

(Quick Note: A couple of chapters ago I referred to Spencer's psychiatrist by she/her pronouns, but I forgot that I assigned that character he/him pronouns wayyy back, so I've decided to go with that one. I just wanted to address that in case anyone else caught it like I did! I apologise for the mistake & any confusion it might have caused.)

AARON

"Find my hand in the darkness and if we cannot find the light, we will always make our own." — Tyler Knott Gregson

Aaron doesn’t fall asleep until well into the small hours of the morning, finally lulled into a cold dreamless sleep once he’s cried himself out. He keeps as quiet as he can, but he knows he won’t wake Spencer up anyway: he’s completely exhausted, and he’s out cold. It’s a small consolation, but he tries to take a small bit of comfort in knowing that his boyfriend is at least getting the rest he needs.

He wakes up only a couple of hours after he falls asleep, and despite feeling completely exhausted, he sets about the things he needs to do. The first thing he does is call Strauss to request a family day — thankfully, the bureau’s been a lot more understanding of his situation since Haley died — before texting Derek and telling him that he needs to take charge of the team if they get sent on a case. Then he calls Jess and asks if she can collect Jack from his sleepover at lunchtime and have him until the evening.

With the technicalities sorted out, he makes a phone call to Spencer's psychiatrist. At this point, if he has to drag him kicking and screaming, if Spencer never talks to him again, if it calls an irreparable rift in their relationship, it won’t get in the way of him getting Spencer the help he needs. After an emergency appointment for 11am is booked, he collapses onto the sofa and calls Penelope.

“Hotch? It’s not even 7am, is everything alright?”

Just hearing her voice, hearing someone ask if he’s okay, is enough to push him over the edge. “No,” he admits into the phone, not even trying to disguise the emotion in his voice.

“I’m on my way,” she says immediately, and he can hear a flurry of activity start up on the other end of the line. “What’s happened, Hotch?”

He breathes out shakily, running a hand down his face. The early morning sun, the bustling city below him, the bright apartment all seems so contrary to the current situation. “Spencer hit a breaking point last night,” he says shakily, unsure exactly how to word it. “Derek and Emily called him to consult on a case, and they were as brisk and focused as we all are when we’re working, but he’s out of practice; he’s not used to that way of doing things anymore. It triggered him and sent him into what I’m gonna guess was a panic attack? But honestly, Penelope… it looked like a breakdown.”

“Oh God,” she says quietly, and the sound of her exiting her apartment reassures Aaron a little.

“I had no idea how to handle it,” he says, dissolving into tears. “He locked himself in the bathroom and was literally tearing his hair out… there were clumps of hair all over the floor. He was screaming at me to leave, telling me he wasn’t good enough that he forgot his place? I had no idea what he was saying—”

Penelope interrupts him. “Oh no.”

“What?”

“Well, when I first found out about his depression, Spencer told me something about how he didn’t feel like he was good for anything except his brain and IQ, you know? He said that he wasn’t cut out for friendships or relationships and I’m pretty sure he called that his ‘place’. It’s stuck with me because of just how awful it sounded.”

“Fuck,” Aaron mutters, sniffing as a fresh wave of tears come to his eyes. “So Emily and Derek consulting him for their case triggered those thoughts again.”

“Sounds like it,” she agrees. “They’re gonna feel so guilty.”

Aaron knows she’s in a tricky situation: her girlfriend and close friend sending her best friend into a near-breakdown, and for a brief minute he feels guilty for roping her in before reminding himself that she wouldn’t be anywhere else if Spencer needed her.

“Yeah, I don’t even know what I’m gonna do about that,” he sighs. “I thought about not telling them, because Spencer doesn’t need everyone knowing about every step of his recovery; it’s personal, right? But more secrets between everyone… I don’t know, it doesn’t feel like a good idea. Especially not for something this serious.”

“We’ll figure it out together,” Penelope promises. “Look, I’m in my car now. I’ll be there in 10, okay?”

He sighs in relief. “Thanks, Penelope.”

They hang up and he drops his phone next to him before staring up at the ceiling for a minute, rubbing his temples. Forcing himself off the sofa, he considers putting the coffee machine on but he doesn’t want the sound of the bean grinder to wake Spencer up, so he settles for a cup of instant coffee instead, putting a slice of bread in the toaster as well.

By the time he’s finished his second slice, Penelope’s letting herself in.

“He’s still asleep?”

He nods, watching as she dumps her handbag on the armchair and walks further into the apartment. It’s always strange seeing her without her usual colourful outfits and makeup on, and although he’s gotten used to it in the past year as they’ve rallied around Spencer, sometimes it still reminds him of seeing her in her casual clothes for the first time when she got shot a couple of years ago.

“I’m just gonna grab some breakfast and a tea,” she says quietly, helping herself to everything in the kitchen as she always does. “You go and sit down, I’ll be over in a minute and we can discuss a game plan.”

He obeys, closing his eyes against the headache coming on, but it’s only a couple of minutes before Penelope’s sitting in the armchair opposite the sofa with a cup of chamomile tea and a slice of marmalade toast.

“Right, the first thing we need to tackle is convincing him to get back on his meds,” Penelope says seriously, keeping her voice low to avoid waking Spencer up.

He nods. “I know. I’ve made an emergency appointment with his psychiatrist for 11am, it’s just a case of a) getting him there and b) making him listen to him.”

“The problem is that he sees going back on medication as admitting defeat or failing at recovery. We need to have a really honest, frank conversation with him about it, but I just don’t know how we’re gonna get him to believe us.”

“Maybe we should use our own experiences? He doesn’t think any less of me or think I’m weak when I take pain medication when my injuries flare up. He wouldn’t think any less of you for accepting pain meds throughout your recovery after you were shot. He doesn’t think less of his mother because she relies on psychiatric medication.”

Penelope nods. “He has a twisted perception of himself. One rule for himself, another for everyone else.”

Something about her words makes Aaron feel suddenly, desperately sad. He’s always been sad for Spencer and what he’s gone through, and he’s been crying most of the night, but the realisation, the reassertion, of just how much Spencer hates himself, what his brain’s put him through over the last two years cuts deep, winding him.

“I just wish he could see himself the way we see him,” he says sadly, another tear spilling down his cheek, as though he has anything left to give.

Penelope’s expression tells him she feels the same.

Hotch goes in to check on Spencer as the clock approaches nine, and his heart breaks for the thousandth time when he finds him staring listlessly at the wall again.

“Morning, baby,” he says gently, making his way into the room.

Thankfully, it grabs Spencer’s attention, and he turns to look at him, misery and self-loathing written all over his face. He doesn’t say anything, but he holds eye contact with Aaron long enough for him to understand that it’s okay for him to be there, and he makes his way further into the room, climbing onto the bed. He’s not expecting Spencer to immediately latch onto him, burying his face in his t-shirt as he clings to him like he’s going somewhere, but that’s exactly what happens.

��Penelope’s in the living room,” he murmurs, carding his fingers through Spencer’s hair. There’s no expectation for him to reply, so he lets the words settle over them as they lay quietly together; the calm after the storm. Aaron hopes it won’t double as the before as well.

After a good couple of minutes, Spencer shifts, and Aaron follows his lead as they shuffle out of the bedroom towards Penelope’s contemplative perch on the sofa. Spencer heads straight towards her, curling into her side and drawing the warm comfort Penelope always has to offer.

“Oh, baby genius,” she whispers, kissing the top of his head. “You’re okay. We love you so much.”

It’s apparently the wrong thing to say, because Spencer immediately withdraws, curling in on himself as he starts to cry.

“Hey, hey, Spencer,” Aaron soothes calmly as he rushes over to his side, “what’s going on?”

Penelope starts to apologise but Aaron shakes his head and she settles for resting a gentle hand on his side instead.

“Can you tell us what’s wrong, Spencer?” Aaron asks, a knot forming in his stomach as he hopes against hope that this won’t turn into a repeat of last night. “We can’t help you unless you talk to us.”

Spencer takes a ragged breath in, turning his face slightly towards Aaron’s direction, and his chest clenches at the bags under his sore, red eyes; his pallid skin. “I’m sorry,” he says shakily, wiping at the tears on his face.

“You don’t have to apologise, Spencer. You just need to tell us how we can help you,” Penelope says gently, her hand rubbing small, consoling circles on his side.

Spencer meets his eyes, his face crumpling as he does and Aaron, in that moment, is reminded distinctly of a star collapsing in on itself. Spencer heaves a painful sob as two more tears spill down his cheeks. “I don’t want to feel like this anymore.”

The admission seems obvious at surface level, but the magnitude of such a statement isn’t lost on either Aaron nor Penelope.

Aaron sighs sadly. “Come here, baby.” Spencer falls gladly into Aaron’s embrace, sobbing dejectedly into his shoulder, sounding so tired and defeated that it’s painful to listen to.

Once he’s finished crying himself out, Aaron and Penelope switch places, Aaron moving to sit on the sofa with Spencer propped up against him and Penelope settling into the armchair.

He approaches his next words carefully. “I’ve made an appointment for you to see Dr Parker at 11am. Penelope and I will take you, and we both think that you should talk to him about going back on the venlafaxine.”

To his surprise Spencer just nods tiredly, no longer crying and instead resuming his blank staring.

“And we also think you should consider talking to Derek and Emily about what happened yesterday,” Penelope suggests quietly, an encouraging expression on her face.

Spencer looks up at her, emotions flying across his face as he processes her words and how he feels about them. Briefly, he looks like he’s about to argue, about to shout or get mad, but he quickly deflates. “They’ll feel guilty,” he says miserably. “Not their fault.”

“Your relationships with everyone have come a long way, Spencer, and that’s great. But everyone is still fragile and affected by everything that’s happened in the past year, and keeping secrets like these is only going to hurt everyone more.”

Spencer’s still and silent for a moment before he nods reluctantly.

“I think that maybe,” Aaron ventures cautiously, “you should avoid doing any consulting work for a while. It’s clearly damaging for you and is always going to come with potential triggers, and when you’re already feeling sad and vulnerable, it’s really just a catalyst for an event like yesterday evening.”

Spencer nods at that, too, and Aaron wishes he could take his acquiescence as a win, but he knows it’s coming from a place of defeat and despair, and he’ll never take any consolation in that.

“Okay, sweetheart,” Aaron says. “We have about an hour until we need to leave, so why don’t we get you some food, get you into the shower, and then you can rest for any left over time? Does that sound okay?”

At Spencer’s agreement, Penelope heads to the kitchen to whip him up something a bit more nutritious than the toast they both settled for, while Aaron takes him to the bathroom to wash up.

“Are you alright on your own?” he asks as he sets the shower up for him, Spencer perching on the edge of the bath as he waits.

Instead of answering his question though, panic suddenly crosses Spencer’s face and he looks at Aaron urgently. “Jack!”

“Hey, it’s alright,” he says soothingly. “Jess is gonna pick him up from his sleepover at lunchtime and have him for the afternoon. I’ve taken a personal day and unless a case comes in, Penelope will be here for as long as we need her. Everything’s in hand.”

“But it’s Jack’s spring break! You should be spending time with him, not herding me into the shower—”

At the first sign of tears, Aaron is quick to step in, reassuring him as best he can. “Hey, I will spend time with him, alright? He was already going to be with Sam all morning, and he’ll be dropped off before dinner, so Jess is only going to have him for a couple of hours. And if you’re feeling well enough once we get back from the doctor’s, then he can come home early, but right now, your health is the most important thing we need to deal with, you hear me?”

Spencer nods reluctantly, but he can tell that the thought of cutting into Aaron’s time with Jack is only fuelling his self-loathing. Having to accept that there’s nothing he can do about that, he makes sure he’s okay in the shower before heading out into the kitchen to find Penelope.

“I can’t tell if that went well or not,” she says quietly, not looking up from the frying pan currently cooking eggs and bacon.

Aaron sighs, leaning against the counter top, his eyes fixed on the bathroom door. “I think it went about as well as it could.”

“I texted Emily and Derek, and they’re going to pop over this afternoon if we don’t get a case,” she says. “If Spencer’s not up for it, we can rearrange, but I thought it was better to be prepared.”

“No, you’re right, thank you for doing that, Penelope. What would I do without you?”

“Aw, stop it, bossman,” she says, grinning as she nudges him playfully.

He smiles. “I mean it.”

“I know. But I’m happy to help you guys out. I’d do anything for Spencer, and I know he’d do anything for me.”

“Without a doubt.”

Spencer emerges from the bathroom a few moments later, clad in a white t-shirt and some tracksuit bottoms Aaron is pretty sure are both actually his, damp curly hair a mess on his head. He can’t help but smile despite himself; his boyfriend looking so damn cute will always be a small pick-me-up on even the worst of days.

“Penelope’s cooked up a storm for you,” he says as brightly as the situation allows, guiding him to the sofa and tucking him in with a couple of blankets to get him as comfortable as possible.

He gets a small smile at that, and a murmured ‘thank you’ when Penelope brings him over a plate of bacon and eggs, arranged as perfectly as he’d expect with Penelope serving as cook.

He flicks the TV to the discovery channel, managing to catch the beginning of a documentary on big cats, and he counts it as a win when it catches Spencer’s attention, hoping it takes his mind off the pain he’s feeling just a little bit.

They spend the next forty minutes watching documentaries with Spencer before Penelope notices the time and begins herding them out the door towards the parking garage.

“No way,” Aaron laughs as she heads towards her car.

“What?”

“You are not driving, Penelope,” he says, laughing even more at her incredulous reaction. “I’ve seen you; you drive like a maniac. We’re taking my car.”

She pouts. “I hate you.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Does this mean I have to sit in the back, too?”

He just levels her with a look that has her sighing dramatically and flinging herself into the backseat, but when he looks over at Spencer and sees a smile on his face, he’s suddenly even more thankful for Penelope.

They sit in the waiting room while Spencer has his appointment and try desperately not to make each other more anxious than they already feel. Penelope flicks through fashion magazines at a pace that tells Aaron she’s not reading a single word, and Aaron reads over and over the case notes he’d bought with him to pass the time, no more going in the second, third, eleventh time than it did the first.

Finally, though, Spencer emerges from Dr Parker’s office with a script in hand and they both sigh a small breath of relief at the idea that he’s finally getting the help he’s been needing so badly.

“Okay, baby?” he murmurs as Spencer reaches for his hand on the way out of the psychiatrist’s office, and something loosens in his chest when Spencer nods and smiles, looking happier and more relaxed than he has in weeks.

Derek and Emily come over just after lunchtime, and Penelope gets up to open the door for them, Spencer and Aaron not moving from their position on the couch, Spencer resting his head in Aaron’s lap as one of his favourite sci-fi movies is playing on the TV.

When he sees who it is, though, Spencer moves to sit up slightly, still keeping himself folded into Aaron’s side.

“Hey, Spence,” Emily says softly, taking a seat in the armchair while Penelope comes over to perch on the arm, wrapping an arm around her girlfriend, “what’s this about?”

Both Emily and Derek look confused enough that Aaron knows Spencer will be able to tell that neither he nor Penelope told them what happened last night, willing to give him a last minute out if that’s what he needs, as well as full control over the narrative.

Derek comes over to the sofa and sits next to Spencer, keeping enough distance between them to keep Spencer comfortable, though he still rests a warm hand on his ankle. “What’s going on? You can tell us anything, pretty boy, you know that.”

Spencer looks to Aaron, and the expression on his face conveys what he needs immediately.

“Yesterday, your consult with Spencer on the methanol poisoning case triggered an… event,” he explains, trying to choose his words carefully. He wants to tell the truth, but he also doesn’t want to sound like he’s blaming Derek and Emily or use language Spencer wouldn’t be happy with. “It was a breaking point of sorts and as such, he decided to go back on his medication.”

Relief tied up with confusion are the first emotions he watches play over Emily and Derek’s faces. Everyone’s been hoping Spencer will return to his medication, but he knows they’ll want more information as to what exactly happened and why they’ve been asked over.

“An event?” Emily asks, sounding a little hesitant.

Before Aaron can answer, Spencer speaks up, his voice a little tired and croaky but convicted nonetheless. “It was a breakdown,” he says plainly, not sugar-coating his words. “I was in a bad place already and I was out of practice with what a time sensitive case entails, and it sent me into a tailspin. It reminded me of all the feelings that working in the BAU caused that year, and I couldn’t handle it. I lashed out at Aaron and…”

“The details don’t matter,” Aaron rescues his tailed off sentence. “The fact is we thought that more secrets were only going to make things worse in the long run, and you needed to understand what happened last night since Spencer going back on his meds was bound to raise questions anyway.”

“I don’t want you to feel guilty,” Spencer interjects, his voice anxious and urgent. “It wasn’t your fault, it’s just the way of the BAU and if I’d been on my medication like I should’ve been in the first place it wouldn’t have been a problem, it was just a horrible medley of circumstances. But I’ve decided that I won’t be doing any consults for a while until I can get my head on straight again. It may be that I’m never able to do them without being triggered, but we’re going to play it by ear.”

Aaron smiles at him proudly, kissing the top of his head as soon as he buries back in for a cuddle.

“Oh, Spence,” Emily sighs sadly. “I’m so sorry, we didn’t even think. We were so caught up in the case we didn’t even stop to consider you and how you’d interpret things.”

“I don’t want you to feel guilty,” Spencer says again, this time from his place on Aaron’s chest. “I’m sorry that it had to be you guys that triggered the breaking point.”

“We should’ve been more considerate,” Derek says firmly, his expression filled with regret. “The last thing I’d ever want is to make you feel the way I did last year, and even though other circumstances contributed to what happened last night, we still failed you, kid, and I’m so sorry for that.”

“It’s fine, seriously. In a way, I’m glad it happened. Something had to give, and I’m glad that I can look forward to finally feeling normal again. I talked to my psychiatrist this morning and even though… it still feels a little bit like giving up, I feel better about it. And we’re gonna work on my attitude to medication in the next couple of sessions until I feel more comfortable about it.”

Aaron knows how much Spencer hates talking about his recovery, so it feels like a big step for him to be so personal and vulnerable in front of four different people, even if they are all virtually his family at this point.

“I’m proud of you, Spencer,” Emily says earnestly, and even though Aaron can tell she still feels guilty, at least it’s no longer the most dominant emotion on her face.

“Me too, kid. You’ve been through hell and back and we’re all so proud of you for getting to where you are.”

Spencer smiles gratefully, but Aaron can tell he’s exhausted from the events of the morning, so he sends a look to Penelope and she shows Emily and Derek out, but not before giving Emily a kiss and being teased by Derek for it.

“Right, baby,” he says as the apartment quietens and it’s just the three of them left. “I think you could do with a nap, don’t you?”

“Don’t wanna leave you,” Spencer mumbles tiredly, clinging to his t-shirt.

“Well how about I come and sit with you while you sleep, yeah? You go and get tucked in and I’ll be in in a minute, I promise.”

“You better.” It’s not much, but it’s the closest to teasing Spencer’s come in weeks, and he’ll absolutely take it.

He gives Penelope a warm hug and disappears into the bedroom.

“Looks like I can leave you to it,” Penelope says quietly as soon as the door’s closed behind him.

Aaron looks at her seriously, before wrapping her in a rare hug. “Thank you for today. I mean it. I don’t know what we would’ve done this past year without you, Penelope, but we sure as hell wouldn’t be where we are now. I’m always gonna be thankful that Spencer has someone as wonderful as you to call a best friend.”

“Hotch,” she says tearily, “I love you both so much. You don’t have to thank me, but it means a lot that you did.”

He smiles at her. “You should go back to the BAU. Go and find Derek and Emily who are no doubt beating themselves up and tell them they’re being ridiculous.”

She gives him a mock salute as she smiles back. “You got it, boss.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Keep me posted,” she says as she gathers the last of her things and heads to the door. “Let me know how he’s doing tonight and I’ll pop round after work to see him tomorrow, okay?”

“Perfect.”

As soon as she’s gone, he climbs into bed with Spencer and wraps him up in his arms, feeling — for the first time in weeks — a distinct conviction that everything is going to be okay.

Chapter Sixteen

Soooo, we don't hate me anymore? I really enjoyed writing this part of the fic, I'm such a sucker for third act angst and the resolution is always so satisfying to me, so I hope I managed to give you guys the same feeling. Only one more chapter to go, and then we're done wtf, how did that happen? I can't wait for you to all read the happy lil ending I wrote for you! See you next Saturday, for the very last time :( If this chapter has brought anything up for you and you're feeling unsafe please check out this link <3

taglist: @criminalmindsvibez @suburban--gothic @strippersenseii @takeyourleap-of-faith @makaylajadewrites @iamrenstark @hotchseyebrows @reidology @transhanniballecter @spencerspecifics @bau-gremlin @hotchedyke @tobias-hankel @goobzoop @marsjareau @garcias-bitch @marvel-ous-m @oliverbrnch @sbeno22 @aaron-hotchner187 @kuolonsyoja @reidreids @anxious-enby (add yourself to my taglist here!)

[chuffyfan87]

Growing Pains. Part 17e

“We all cause pain to someone.” Dylan pointed out.

"Its my fault she's sick..."

“Who?”

"Duffy."

“And why do you believe it’s your fault?”

"Coz of what the voices told me to do..."

“People get ill for many reasons, it’s not necessarily because you’ve thought or done a bad thing.” Dylan paused, “Do you hear voices?”

"I think so... I'm not sure..."

“That’s something we need to treat, if you are.”

"What's the treatment?"

“Medication. Antidepressants, antipsychotics. It depends on what it is.”

"How do I find out?"

“I can ask someone from the mental health team to come and talk to you? I will need to refer you.”

"Um..." Louis hesitated.

“What don’t you like about the idea?”

"What if there is something wrong with me?"

“That you're mentally unwell?”

"Yeh."

“Does it worry you?”

"I just want to be normal. That's all I've ever wanted."

“Normal’s overrated.”

"You've spent too much time with my stepmum." Louis retorted, a ghost of a smile on his lips.

“Is that a smile I see?”

"Maybe..."

“Can I refer you to the mental health team?”

"I 'spose."

“Thank you. Can I also make a suggestion?”

"What's that?"

“That you talk to your father and Duffy. As highly qualified nurses, they have more knowledge with mental health than you realise.”

"I guess..."

“Is there anything else you’d like to discuss with me?”

"Will I ever get better?" Louis asked softly.

“Yes.”

"How can you be so sure?"

“Are you determined?”

"I want to get better but I'm scared I won't be able to do it."

“You have a very supportive family around you.”

"You say that..."

“You should be having this conversation with your stepmother and father.”

"I would except my dad hates me and my stepmum is terrified of me..." Louis sighed.

“I don’t believe that to be true.”

"Dad won't even let me be alone in the same room as my stepmum for more than a few minutes." Louis sighed again.

“I don’t know what’s happened so I can’t comment.”

"The voices told me to hurt her..."

“And do they still tell you to hurt her? Do you have any other symptoms?”

"I don't want to hurt her!" Louis started to cry.

Dylan looked awkward, “I believe you.”

"Mum hated her but I don't."

Dylan smiled sadly. He didn’t really know what to do.

"Amanda said its not my place to fight my mum's battles for her..."

“I think Amanda’s a very wise woman.”

"Yeh she's alright."

“Take your methadone and let people help you.”

"Coz you're a doctor and you say so?"

“Because it’s the only way to get better.”

"Hmm..."

“You’re in control Louis. No one else.”

"OK." There was a long pause. "Don't you want to like take my temperature or something?" Louis asked.

“I think you’re simply withdrawing. It’s not a pleasant experience.”

"You've no idea." Louis muttered.

“Is there any you’d like to tell me?”

"Not really."

“Are you sure? Have you taken something?”

"For fucks sake! Why does everyone keep asking me that?!"

“Because it’s our job. And we need to know if you’re safe.”

"I didn't take anything!" Louis was beginning to get agitated.

“I believe you.”

"Good! Go tell my dad that!"

“I will.” Eventually Dylan left Louis room and went downstairs to speak to both Duffy and Charlie.

They were sat on the sofa.

Dylan knocked on the door.

Duffy shot Charlie a bemused look before yelling "Come in!"

Dylan opened the door and stepped into the room. “I’ve finished talking to Louis.”

"Is he ok?" Duffy asked.

“Has he ever undergone a psych evaluation?”

"Not to my knowledge. Charlie?"

“No.”

"But you think he should?"

Dylan nodded.

"What do you think might be the issue?"

“I’m not a psychiatrist.”

"You are a doctor though."

“My area of expertise isn’t the mind.” Dylan replied. “It could be a number of things.”

"Not just the drugs..?"

“Not just the drugs no.”

"We'll arrange a consultation. Did you convince him to take the methadone again?"

“I’ll arrange the referral, put it through as urgent. I tried but I don’t know if Louis will take it.”

"Thank you. We very much appreciate it." Charlie replied, reaching out to shake Dylan's hand.

Dylan shook his hand, “It’s ok. I’ll um, leave you both to it.”

"Thank you for everything Dylan." Duffy smiled gratefully.

“No problem.” Charlie showed Dylan out of the house and thanked him. As he closed the door, Charlie lent against it and looked up the stairs.

Duffy lingered in the lounge doorway. "He'll be OK. We'll make sure of that."

“Yeah, yeah he will.” Charlie forced a smile.

"Come here."

He stepped towards his wife.

As soon as he was close enough she pulled him into a hug.

He rested his head against her shoulder, “We’ll get him the help he needs.” He whispered.

"We will. All of us together as a family."

[master-sass-blast]

The Literal Crack Fic

Whoooo boy, this one’s a doozy.

Summary: You wind up overdosing after falling into a vat of cocaine and inadvertently inhaling too much of it.

The fic makes more sense than the summary, I promise.

Rating: M for accidental drug usage, seizures, drug-induced psychosis and hallucinations, drug overdose, drug withdrawal, cocaine, and hospitalization.

Like I said, this one’s a doozy.

Massive thank you to @leo-writer for proofing this fic for me and making sure my tired brain Englished properly! <3

Taglist: @chromecutie, @marvel-is-perfection, @super-darkcloudstudent, @girl-obsessed-with-things, @starman-thorsus-canos-jock

Also, to anyone who is struggling with drug addiction, who knows someone struggling with drug addiction, or has struggled with drug addiction: you are a beautiful human battling a dangerous and difficult beast. Your beauty and value are not and will never be diminished by the beast or the fight, I promise. <3

I thought it best to find a few resources to help those struggling with drug addiction. Obviously, I’m one person, so I can possibly cover every country. If someone knows the hotline for their country --or thinks of one I didn’t mention for a country I have listed--please include it in a reblog or a comment!

US:

-https://www.samhsa.gov/find-help/national-helpline

-http://drughelpline.org/cocaine-hotline/

UK:

-https://www.nhs.uk/live-well/healthy-body/cocaine-get-help/

Australia:

-https://au.reachout.com/articles/cocaine

-https://adf.org.au/help-support/

You watch, satisfied, as your fiancé hauls off a group of mutant drug runners towards the X-Jet.

Charles had gotten the call a couple weeks ago; a team of mutants was using their abilities to run drugs through New York, and had gotten too dangerous for the regular authorities to handle. The X-Men had been asked to take in the mutants, and Charles had handed off the task of tracking the group’s hideout down to Nate and Wade.

Earlier today, the two had called the other members of the X-Force with the news that they’d found the drug runners. Within fifteen minutes, the X-Jet had been in the air and on its way towards upstate New York.

And, well, everything had gone pretty smoothly from there.

Wade groans as he stretches. “Fuck, I should’ve stretched my hammies more. I’m gonna be sore for like… another two minutes.”

“You’ll forget how you hurt yourself before the two minutes are up,” Ellie snarks.

“Yes, but until they are, I’m gonna be in agony!” Wade gripes. “Dammit! Why do my hamstrings hurt so bad?”

“Ellie, why don’t you and Yukio go help out Piotr,” you say, nodding at the jet. “Wade, Nate, Neena, and I will try to track down the runners’ stash so we can hand it off to the proper authorities.”

“Minus a serious chunk!” Wade adds as he starts skipping towards the warehouse the runners had been holed up in. “Because daddy needs a restock!”

“Absolutely not,” you fire back as you trail after him.

“Since when did you start sounding like Colossus?”

“Since we can’t afford to look like we’re skimming drugs, dorkus. What were they running?”

“Cocaine,” Nathan answers as he stops Wade from fiddling with various lab equipment on set of tables stationed on the far wall of the warehouse. “Decent grade stuff, and a lot of it from the looks of our recon.”

“I’m guessing there isn’t going to be a big sign with flashing neon lights that says ‘we hid our drugs here?’” you quip as you scan the warehouse for any clues about the drug stash’s whereabouts.

Nathan smirks. “Probably not, no.”

“We’ll find it,” Neena says confidently as she pulls out her phone and taps at the screen. “I’m feeling… two minutes and fifty seconds.”

“Still lazy writing,” Wade says as he turns a Bunsen burner on and off until Nate slaps his hand away.

You chuckle, then start walking the perimeter of the warehouse. The flooring’s wooden and somewhat rotted, so you have to watch your step in a couple places.

“Look, I’m not saying I’m an expert!” Wade protests mid-argument with Nate. “I’m just saying I’ve hidden cocaine before, and we should absolutely be looking for a hollowed-out statue of Betty Boop firing a machine gun into Stalin!”

“You’re the only person on the face of the earth who even has that statue.”

“Not true! The artist on Etsy made three.”

You snort and continue walking the perimeter, scanning the floor for any sign of where the drugs might be hidden –hello.

In the far-right corner of the warehouse is an area where a square has been cut through the floor.

You pry it up and peer down in the cavity beneath it –and, sure enough, there’s several slabs of cocaine at the bottom.

You pop up just as Neena’s phone timer goes off. “Over here!”

Neena cheers. “How about that!”

You jump up and down as you cheer with her—

Then shriek as you land on the hidey-hole panel and plummet through the floor.

You land on the slabs of cocaine –which, admittedly, aren’t too shabby for breaking a fall—and send up a veritable mushroom cloud of the drug into the warehouse. You cough, wheeze, and sneeze as you try to fan the coke away from your face.

And then, from the floor above you, comes the most horrified, blood-curdling shriek you’ve heard in your life. There’s a rush of footsteps on the floor, then Wade practically dives in with you because he can’t stop in time. He manages to catch himself on the lip of the floor, repositions himself so he’s laying down on his stomach, partially hanging over the ledge, then hauls you out by your collar, all while screaming “Get out of there! Get out of there! Get out of there!”

You hack and swipe at your face as you plop onto the floor of the warehouse. “Oh, fuck. That’s worse than the time I dropped that ten-pound bag of powdered sugar.”

Wade seems to be too busy having a nervous breakdown to notice your quip, though. “Oh, fuck! Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god! Fucking monkeys on a stick! Oh, sweet balls have mercy, no!”

“Relax,” you say as you stand and brush yourself off. “I didn’t hit my head; I’m fine.”

“I will not fucking relax!” Wade snaps at you. “I think I fucking shit my pants when you fell down in there, so no! No relaxing! No relaxes ever again! This is the worst possible situation to have ever happened in the history of the universe, including the invention of polyester boxers! Holy shit, Colossus is gonna kill us! He’s gonna kill me!”

“Wade, take a breath,” Neena interjects firmly. “Colossus isn’t going to kill anyone. It was an accident. You didn’t even do anything.”

“He most certainly will if his precious fiancée dies, which is exactly what’s gonna happen to her!”

“Wade, calm down,” Nathan says. “Y/N’s not going to die.”

“Yes, she is, you fucking imbecile!” Wade snarls –and his tone, combined with the fact he’s snapping at Nathan, really settles that he’s being completely serious. “She’s on antidepressants! You can’t mix those with cocaine! Even I don’t mix those with cocaine! Fuck, we need to get her to a hospital. We needed to get her to a hospital five minutes ago! Fuck, why are we still standing here?”

“You’ve been monologuing,” Neena offers.

“Dammit! Not the time! Bad me!” He slaps himself. “Ow!”

“I can just fly myself there,” you say, voice thready with anxiety because you’re starting to get the picture of just how fucked you might be.

“No! No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no.” Wade clasps your shoulders in a way that would’ve been gentle if he hadn’t been death-gripping them due to being so worked up. “No, nobody’s flying anywhere except in the jet. You need to keep your heart rate as slow as possible. Just stay calm. Everybody’s cool, everybody’s fine, this is totally chill, nobody’s shit their pants and nobody’s going to die, except for maybe you –fuck! Where is Piotr?”

“He’s handing off the criminals to the authorities,” Nate supplies, peering out the warehouse door. “They’ve got some kind of court case they need the guys for.”

“Dammit! This is no time for the boy scout act!”

“Come on.” Neena takes your arm and starts walking you towards the door. “We need to at least get her on the jet.”

 ***

 So, as it turns out, cocaine feels pretty fucking great.

You’re borderline vibrating when Piotr all but sprints onto the jet, followed closely by Wade. “Hi, babe!” you chirp, words coming out in rush. “How’re you? Are you good? I’m really good. I’m super buzzy. Are you super buzzy? Did you eat any bees?”

“How did this happen?” Piotr asks as he kneels in front of you, looking you over with a distraught expression.

“She fell through the floor, I swear to Cthulhu,” Wade says as he frantically strips you out of your jacket. “How’s she doing?”

“Temperature and heart rate are elevated, but other than that she’s been okay,” Neena says.

“We need to get her to a hospital,” Wade insists.

“Already called McCoy,” Nathan calls from the cockpit as he goes through the stages of lift off. “He called the hospital that works with the Institute; they’re already waiting for her.”

You press your sweaty forehead against Piotr’s shoulder, relishing in the cool temperature of his armor. “You feel good, baby. Just like your dick does when you fuck me.”

Piotr hugs you gently. “Just stay calm, dorogoy. Focus on breathing.”

“Oh, I can do that. I am so focused right now. I am the most focused I’ve ever been.”

“Very good. Try to stop talking and just focusing on breathing, pozhaluysta.”

“Okay, I’ll try not to talk, even though it’s really easy right now. It’s like I’ve got entire dictionaries in my head all at once, and they’re all pouring words into my brain, and I have to make sure I let the words out so my head doesn’t explode. Wait, am I still talking?”

“How much longer to hospital?” Piotr asks.

“Ten minutes,” Nathan replies from the cockpit.

Piotr shifts so he’s sitting in the seat and holding you in his lap. “Deep breaths, dorogaya moya. Focus on breathing.”

You’re too focused on tracing the ridges on his forearms with your fingers to really do that, but you are staying calm. Honestly, you feel really good. You’re alert, your brain feels like it’s going a billion miles an hour, and you feel really happy.

Granted, you could do without your chest feeling so tight, but you can’t have everything. You cough a little, then go back to tracing Piotr’s arm ridges with your fingers.

“Alright, Y/N.” Neena squats in front of you. “We have to do some tests to see where your cognitive function is at, okay?”

“Okay,” you reply, drawing out the ‘a,’ while you continue to trace Piotr’s arm ridges. Wait, didn’t I just do his wrist?

“Good. Can you tell me your name?”

You let out another burst of coughing before answer. “Y/N M/N L/N.”

“Okay. What’s today’s date?”

“Uh…” You cough again, harder this time, then rattle off the date.

“Good. Can you tell me your date of birth?”

“Uh… uh… oh, it’s—” Before you can answer, you start coughing again, hard and long enough to make you start wheezing.

“Are you okay?” Neena asks as you double over. “Do you need some oxygen?”

You start crying, out of breath and more than a little disoriented. “I can’t breathe. My chest’s too tight, I can’t breathe.”

“Let’s get you some oxygen,” Neena decides, walking away to get a tank and mask.

Piotr rubs your back and helps you stay steady as you keep wheezing. “Try to stay calm. I know you are scared, but we are almost to hospital. Everything will be better soon.”

You weep against his shoulder—

Then suck in a harsh breath when you see your mother standing across the plane’s interior, glaring at you.

“What is it?” Piotr asks when you scream. “Moya lyubov’, what’s wrong?”

“My mom!” you hack out between bouts of coughing and wheezing. “Get her away from me!”

“Myshka… your mother is not here.”

Neena curses up a blue streak as she sets an oxygen canister next to your fiancé. “Wade! Get in here! She’s hallucinating!”

There’s the sounds of general panic and chaos from the cockpit, then Wade bursts into the main area of the jet. “Fuck—”

Everything goes black after that.

 ***

 Beep… beep… beep…

You wish someone would turn your alarm clock off. It’s hard enough to sleep with something stuck to your face, but the continuous beeping in your ear makes it borderline impossible.

Beep… beep… beep…

Maybe it’s one of those alarms that keeps going until you solve some sort of puzzle or something. You tried installing one of those on your phone at one point, but Piotr had to keep solving them to turn the alarm off because you’d sleep through the damn thing anyway, which kind of defeated the purpose of getting a special alarm to begin with.

Beep… beep… beep…

No…

Beep… beep… beep…

No, wait…

Beep… beep… beep…

That’s a pulse monitor.

Aw, shit.

You open your eyes with a slight snort and peer up into blinding whiteness.

You’re in a hospital room. Fucking fantastic.

“Easy, easy,” someone says –it’s Piotr, you recognize his voice even if you can’t see him—while you shield your eyes against the lights. “Hold still. I will turn lights down.”

You relax as the lights dim down to a more respectable level, then start trying to look around for your boyfriend –except you can’t really move; every single movement –even down to the twitch of your fingers—feels like you’re swimming through molasses.

Then there’s the sensation of the bed dipping on your left side, and Piotr’s face appears in your field of vision.

He cups your face gently in his hands, rubbing your cheeks with the utmost delicacy. He’s smiling, but his baby blue eyes are watering with unshed tears. “Privet, myshka. How are you feeling?”

You try to reply, but you can feel the thing on your face somewhat impeding the movement of your face. You try to reach towards it to move it away, but you have all the limb coordination of a newborn giraffe at the moment.

“Careful, careful,” Piotr cautions, taking your hand in his. “Oxygen mask. You were having difficulty breathing.”

Well. That explains that.

“Where… am I?” you rasp as you try to get your bearings.

“Hospital,” Piotr says. “You… you had seizure from cocaine. They had to give you some drugs to calm you down.”

You frown as you try to piece together what he’s saying. “I… can’t remember…”

“It is okay. Doctors said that might happen. Speaking of which—” he picks up the little remote attached to your bed “—I need to call your nurse so she can check on you.”

***

 The full story is such: you inhaled enough cocaine to cause an overdose, and that combined with the interaction between the coke and your meds caused you to experience psychosis before you started seizing. You blacked out when the seizure started, then lost consciousness when you started convulsing. Fortunately, the convulsions only started when you were two minutes away from the hospital. The team there was able to treat you almost immediately –with bendodiazepines, which is a fun word to say—and put you in a room for observations once they were able to stop the effects of the seizure and the overdose.

You don’t remember anything that happened on the jet, and barely anything from the mission itself or the incident in the warehouse –which, all things considered, might be for the best. You’ve got enough traumatic memories to deal with as is.

All in all, you’re tired. Between the mission, the overdose, the seizure, and the drugs they gave you to calm your body down, you feel like you’ve been awake for a week straight. You manage to stay conscious while the nurse checks you over and ascertains your memory recall –average, considering what you went through—but once she leaves, you’re out like a light.

You wake up a couple other times –once to go to the bathroom, once because Piotr sneezes—but otherwise you remain konked out well into the evening, when you wake up to a quiet cacophony of voices in your room.

At first, you almost right it off as having some sort of strange dream or semi-conscious auditory hallucination –except you pick up on that the voices are speaking Russian, and hey!

You open your eyes, and sure enough the rest of the Rasputin family is in your room, greeting Piotr and speaking to him and hushed, worried Russian.

Illyana, unsurprisingly, notices you’re awake first. “Hey.

Piotr’s by your side in an instant, pressing a gentle kiss against your forehead. “Privet, sleepyhead. How are you?”

“Really hungry,” you say, which is punctuated by your stomach gurgling. “Can I eat something?”

He kisses your forehead again before standing. “I will go ask nurse.”

Alexandra takes his spot as he strides out of the room, clasping your hand in hers and rubbing gentle circles on the back of it. “How are you, malen'kaya ptitsa?”

“Drugged as fuck,” you answer with a tiny smile. “I can’t… can’t remember most of what happened.”

“That is what medvezhonok said. He sounded very panicked over the phone.”

“It was pretty bad, apparently,” you say.

Mikhail grunts in agreement. “Uppers and antidepressants do not mix.” He holds up his hands defensively when Alexandra and Nikolai pin him with sharp looks. “Not speaking from experience! Just saying.”

You chuckle tiredly, then refocus on Alexandra. “Why are you guys here? I thought you were in Russia.”

“We were,” Nikolai pipes up. “We get call, then we come.”

You frown as you try to do the math. “But… the flight…”

“We teleport in emergencies,” Alex says with a conspiratorial wink. “Medvezhonok needs us. As do you. We are here to help until you’re back on your feet.”

You smile at them, chest swelling with appreciation and love. “Thank you.”

Alex just shakes her head and pats your hand. “We are family. It’s what we do.”

***

 The doctor on rotation comes in while you’re eating dinner. He checks your chart, asks you and Piotr a few questions about your medical history, then delivers what just might be the worst news of your life.

“I’m going to be here for a week?”

Okay, maybe ‘worst news of your life’ is a touch dramatic, but still.

“It’s standard practice with seizure patients,” he explains. “We need to make sure you’re stable, especially since it’ll take time for the cocaine to leave your system and you’re on antidepressants. Speaking of which, how familiar are you with drug withdrawal?”

You frown. “I mean… I’ve had painkillers after surgeries before.”

He quirks his mouth to one side, then shakes his head. “Not quite what I mean. You might experienced some minor side effects with that, but cocaine withdrawal is an entirely different beast. Even with your advanced constitution, you’re going to be in a world of hurt for a while.”

“What are we looking at?” Piotr asks.

“Well, typically, cocaine crash happens within the first week after taking the dose. Users who crash often go through various psychological side effects –increased anxiety, irritability and depressive symptoms—along with physical ones –chills, impaired coordination, exhaustion, and so on. Weeks one through four usually constitute the withdrawal part of the process. Again, there’s more of the symptoms I just mentioned, but also an uptick in nightmares, muscle and nerve pain, and difficulty concentrating. She’s basically going to need intensive care from her support system during the withdrawal process; there’s a reason why most centers that help people get clean are live-in facilities.”

“But I’ve never even done anything recreational before,” you insist. “I barely even drink.”

“And that’s definitely in your favor. The fact that you don’t have any preexisting habits puts you ahead of the game. But drug withdrawals severely impact brain chemistry,” the doctor explains patiently. “You’re not going to be yourself or think like you usually do. Your brain will be going through a depletion of endorphins, especially dopamine, and it’s going to drive you to possibly do some incredibly risky things to get more.”

“How do we keep her safe?” Piotr asks, expression concerned.

“Close supervision, for one. Making sure she’s comfortable, that she has the assistance she needs, and that she’s not isolated are going to be key. Keeping her closely in touch with her therapist or someone who specializes with helping addicts with be important, too.”

“But I’m not an addict,” you argue.

“You’re not, but specialists have more experience addressing the problems you’ll be facing. The goal is to help you as effectively as possible. Also, make a point to limit any other substances she could have access to –alcohol, prescription drugs, even over the counter stuff. People who do cocaine often try to get another hit by switching over to a different drug, and we don’t want to risk further complications. Do you live with her?”

Piotr nods.

“Good. You need to be in control of her medication until she’s completely recovered. I know it sounds ridiculous,” he adds when you make a noise of protest, “but this is a deathly serious situation. The odds of you overdosing via trying to get another high are exponentially higher right now. This is about keeping you safe.”

“But I don’t need to get another high!” you insist. “I’m fine!”

The doctor sighs and braces his forearms against his knees. “You inhaled a lot of cocaine when you fell into that vat. Between that and the benzodiazepines we gave you to stop the overdose seizure, you’re still high right now. You aren’t feeling any withdrawal symptoms because your body still has a lot of drugs in its system. Believe me, when they do hit, you will feel them and want to do anything to make them stop.” He favors you with a sympathetic smile. “This isn’t about you being a bad person, or an addict, or anything like that. The situation was an accident, and your intentions are good, but cocaine is a serious drug. All of this is for your safety, I promise you.”

You sigh –and reach for Piotr’s hand because all of this is more than a little terrifying—and nod. “Okay. What happens when I go back home?”

“I’ve instructed Dr. McCoy to keep you in observation for another three days, just to make sure your antidepressants are still interacting properly with your system. If all of that goes well, you’ll be free to resume normal life –under supervision, of course.”

You do your best not to pout. It’s for my own safety. “How long do I have to be supervised for?”

“Cocaine stays in the system for a long time. While withdrawal symptoms usually stop around the fourth week, the elimination stage –which is where the drug starts fully leaving your system and the risk of relapsing gets progressively smaller—can take up to five weeks on its own. Given that you have a slight healing factor and that you don’t have any other substance abuse problems, I would wager you might shave a week off of that cumulative total, but not much more than that.”

You grimace. “Ten weeks? I have to be supervised for ten weeks?”

“The supervision can be less restrictive as you progress through the weeks of the elimination phase, but yes, essentially. I’d advise setting rewards and goals for yourself at each milestone to help things progress better. The hospital staff will be providing you with some information about drug withdrawal and treatment before you leave; it should have suggestions for some good milestones to implement.”

You sigh, then look over at Piotr. “Here’s hoping you don’t get sick of me in that time.”

He smiles fondly at you and kisses your cheek. “Never.”

 ***

 Withdrawal hits like a bitch.

You’re cold. Downright freezing. No matter how many blankets you shiver under, you can’t get warm.

The monitor you’re hooked up to, however, says that your temperature is staying at a healthy level, the lying little bitch.

“I swear to Danny Devito that thing is mocking me,” you grumble as you eye the readout of the traitorous device. “There’s no way my temperature’s normal.”

“Give it time, myshka,” Piotr says as he loads up a spoon with more ‘berry blast’ yogurt; your coordination is still completely tanked, so he’s taken to feeding you for the time being like the absolute angel he is. “You will feel better eventually.”

You groan and grudgingly eat more yogurt. “I just want to feel better now.”

“I know, moya lyubov’. I know.”

***

 The anxiety is worse.

Even though you’re still on your anti-depressants –score one to the latent healing factor and overall hardiness mutation there, if you’d had to go off those too you might’ve lost your mind—the crash and slow withdrawals from the coke you’d accidentally taken is enough to put you on a knife blade’s edge. You feel like you’re continually one split second away from a panic attack, no matter how much deep breathing or meditating you do.

Fortunately for you, though, Piotr is a dedicated partner and fiancé who knows just about every trick in the books to help you relax. He has Ellie –who has her license now, which is kind of hard to believe, you swear she just turned sixteen yesterday—bring your favorite movies from the house and generally helps you stay distracted. When you do tip over into a panic attack, he’s right by your side and stays there until you ride it out.

You’re not sure where you’d be without him –here, and in life in general.

 ***

 The exhaustion, however, is what really kills it.

You can’t remember a time where you’ve ever been more tired. Missions, flying out to your uncles, your various escape attempts, flying to the X-Mansion for the first time, escaping kidnapping attempts, that one time you decided to stay awake for three days because Piotr was off on a mission and it sounded like fun and then he came back home to you being borderline delirious and attempting to cook Bagel Bites in the toaster (sorry, Piotr)…

It goes past being just “tired.” You’re exhausted all the way down to your bones, to the point where you can barely move or eat or do anything, and no amount of sleeping makes it better.

Worse still is that Piotr seems determined to keep you on a somewhat normal sleep cycle –which, okay, you need to be on one for the sake of your mental health, but you’re so damn tired that it almost seems pointless.

You sob when he rouses you from yet another nap. “Please,” you beg, “please, baby, I’m so tired, just let me sleep…”

Piotr wipes away your tears and kisses your forehead gently. “I know, moya lyubov’, but it is not good to sleep all day. Besides, it is time to eat.”

“I don’t want to,” you weep. “I just want to sleep, please just let me sleep!”

He hugs you gently, careful not to disrupt the hookup to the heart monitor, and presses his lips to the top of your head. “I know, but you need to take medication. Besides, I brought your favorite.”

You pry your eyes open, sniffling –and sure enough, he’s brought a food container from home stuffed with chocolate chip pancakes, bacon, the works. “Can I sleep after I eat?”

“After a bit. You should try to stay awake for little bit.”

You whimper and try to turn away from him. “No—”

“I know, I know.” He smooths your hair away from your face in a soothing fashion. “And I am so sorry, moya lyubov’, but you know it’s best for you.”

You sniff inelegantly, then turn back towards him and take the box. “Fine. But I’m not sharing my bacon.”

Piotr chuckles and kisses your temple. “Whatever helps you get through it, myshka.”

(You wind up sharing your bacon anyway.)

 ***

 Despite your misery, the week passes quickly enough –which probably has to do with your general disorientation regarding the passage of time, what with your exhaustion and all, which only adds to your suffering.

The Rasputin family takes various turns watching over you and keeping you company while Piotr gets sleep or attends to his duties as an X-Men and general overseeing adult at the Institute. Mikhail and Alexandra teach you the finer points of playing Poker without losing like a scrub, Nikolai tells various stories about growing up in Russia and his kids’ early lives, and Illyana pops in from time to time to just keep you company –more often than not, with Kitty in tow as well.

Ellie even drives Russell and Yukio over and figures out how to hookup her Wii to the TV in your room so the four of you can play. Your skills at Mario Kart are none too improved by your impaired coordination –but, considering you were pretty shit at it to begin with, not too much of your game play is changed overall.

Conspicuously absent, however, are Nate and Wade. You’ve gathered that Wade is still pretty freaked out by the whole thing and is generally avoiding Piotr and his family at all rational –and irrational, because Wade—costs, and that Nate is babysitting him to make sure he doesn’t go on a reign of panic-induced destruction, if the texts he sent to Piotr are to be believed.

Which, honestly, is probably the best thing for Nathan to be doing right now. Wade gets extremely unpredictable when he’s stressed out; having Nate around is basically the only way to ensure he doesn’t attempt to “liberate” the zoo again –or, worse, do something hurt himself.

Either way, after one week of observation, you’re discharged with a few hefty bills, a thick pamphlet of information about recovering from withdrawals and what to look out for, and strict instructions to take it easy and for other adults to keep a close eye on you.

And then you’re taken home and veritably shunted into another hospital bed for another three days of observation.

Honestly, fuck your life.

 ***

 Granted, things could be worse. You’re surrounded by your friends and family, you can afford the bills you’ve accrued from this whole shitshow, you’ve got medical staff used to dealing with the special conditions that come attached with your mutant status, and you don’t have a past addiction to deal with on top of all this.

And gratitude is good, as is perspective, but sometimes suffering is suffering –constantly making sure your attitude is justified is exhausting and nigh impossible.

Plus, you’ve hit a second wave of side effects: freakish nightmares and full body pain! Fantastic!

(To be read as: not fantastic.)

Piotr’s by your side when you wake up with a whimper. “What’s wrong, moya dusha?”

“Nightmare,” you groan, waving your hand dismissively. “Just… weird.” You blink a few times, then peer at him, confused. “Shouldn’t you be in bed?”

“Not quite,” he says. “Mikhail will switch off with me soon.” He smoothes your hair back, then kisses your forehead. “How do you feel?”

“Like shit.” You wince, then try to reposition yourself as aches run through your body –not to any particular avail, since the pain seems to run straight through your bones and out the other side.

“Where does it hurt?”

“Everywhere.”

He tsks quietly –a habit you’ve learned he picked up from Nikolai—and starts rubbing your hands and forearms.

And it does help you feel better, just a little.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble tiredly.

“For what? You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“Just… you have to deal with all this. It’s so much. You don’t deserve that.”

“And you don’t deserve to be dealing with withdrawals or any of it. Besides—” he kisses the bridge of your nose “—we are going to be married soon. That means ‘for better or worse, in sickness and health.’”

“I’m pretty sure whoever created those vows didn’t have ‘accidentally falling into a giant vat of cocaine’ in mind when they wrote them,” you mutter.

Piotr snorts, quietly. “Perhaps not, but principle is same. Besides, I love you. This is no burden.”

“There is an objective level of burden here, Piotr. Even if you don’t mind it, you’re still dealing with a lot.”

Piotr goes quiet for a moment, then concedes with a nod and small smile. “Fair enough –but as you said, I do not mind. You are my fiancée and love of my life. I would sacrifice much more for you than what I have to do with this.”

You lean towards him –even though it sends stabs of pain all over your body, but you can’t be assed to care right now—and kiss his shoulder. “Well, here’s hoping you don’t have to.”

***

 Your uncle shows up on the second day of observation at the X-Mansion.

He practically tumbles into the room you’re staying in, hair wet and t-shirt somewhat askew, but otherwise in one piece. “What the fuck happened?”

You stare at him, agape. “What are you doing here? Why are you wet?”

“Alex called me. Said you were in the hospital. I flew out as soon as I finished my most recent mission,” he explains in a rush. “Showered first. I figured you guys would appreciate that.”

“Uh, yeah. Probably.” You frown when you notice him swaying a little on his feet. “When was the last time you slept? Or ate anything?”

“Oh, come on, I’m not that hopeless. It was…” His voice trails off as he starts ticking off numbers on his fingers, which stops shortly after as his face goes blank, which in turn is punctuated by a simultaneous yawn and shockingly loud gurgle from his stomach.

Piotr bites back a snort –Mikhail doesn’t bother—and stands. “I can—”

“Nyet, nyet,” Nikolai interjects as he stands. He says something else in Russian, nodding to you with a smile, kisses Alex on the forehead, then clasps your uncle’s shoulder as he walks out of the room.

“What’d he say?” you ask Piotr as he sits back down in the seat next to your bed.

“Just that I should stay with you.” He lifts your hand to his mouth and kisses the back of it.

“Right. Okay.” Your uncle plops haphazardly into a seat provided by Mikhail, scrubs his face with his hands, then gives you a slightly crazed look that you suspect is mostly fueled by exhaustion-induced delirium. “What happened?”

You look at Piotr, then shrug. “Uh… I accidentally fell into a vat of cocaine and overdosed.”

“…What?”

***

 Wade finally shows up three days after Dr. McCoy releases you into Piotr’s –along with his family’s and your uncle’s—care.

Which isn’t to say that he necessarily shows up of his own volition.

“Nate! Put me down you time traveling, infinity scarf wearing, fuck-boi haircut sporting bastard! I’m fucking serious! I’ll chop off my testicles and hide them under your pillow –again!”

“Like you said, wouldn’t be the first time!”

“Nathan Charles Elizabeth Craigory Sam-becca Summers, so fucking help me—”

You and Piotr watch –along with Mikhail, who’s basically on the floor in a fit of hysterical laughter at this point—as Nathan forcibly carries Wade into your room –and, in a moment of predictable and yet somehow unpredictable desperation, Wade tries to brace himself against the doorframe like a dog who doesn’t want to get into the bath and is doing everything they can to avoid getting wet.

“You fucking cheater!” Wade gasps when Nathan uses his telekinesis to force Wade’s arms and legs forward. “You can’t just do that!”

“Can and did, sweetheart.” Nathan grunts as he sets Wade on the floor, facing your bed –which is where you currently are, propped up on a bunch of pillows. “Time to face the music, darling.”

“Absolutely not. Ryan Reynolds couldn’t make me face my emotions, and neither can you.”

“Wade,” Piotr says softly. “Talk to us. What is wrong?”

Wade looks pointedly at the ceiling and groans. “Ugh, why does he have to be so gentle? So caring? He’s like if the Pillsbury Doughboy and modern therapy conventions had a lovechild.”

Mikhail blinks slowly as he tries to process the sentence. “Pills-berry… what?”

You just shake your head at him.

“Wade,” Piotr says, a little more serious this time. “Please. This is serious matter.”

Nathan takes Wade’s hand and squeezes it gently when the other man looks pointedly at the floor. “It’s okay. It’ll be okay.”

“I fucked up,” Wade says after a moment. “It’s… it’s my fault.”

A mildly pained expression crosses Piotr’s face. “What did you break? Did –Wade, if you had another run in with soap dispensers—”

“No! Although, I do need to refill mine back at home; thanks for reminding me.”

“I refilled our soap dispenser yesterday. With actual soap,” Nathan retorts in the tone of someone who is deeply in love but also deeply annoyed. “And stick to the point, sweetheart.”

Wade fidgets for a moment, then looks to Nate for reassurance, then sighs when the gray-haired man nods. “What happened with Y/N. It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have even had her in the warehouse. I know the ins and outs of coke, I know it’s dangerous to people who take antidepressants, I should’ve sent her out with you—”

“Wade,” Piotr says gently, cutting the scarred man off before he can dive too deeply into guilt. “What happened was an accident. I know that, Y/N knows that, we all know that. In fact, if you had not been there, she probably would have been in much worse danger. By all accounts, you helped save her life –so, thank you.”

Wade purses his lips, but manages a small nod before looking at you. “Can I talk to you for a minute? If you’re feeling up to it?”

You nod, then pat Piotr’s shoulder. “I’ll be alright.”

Piotr kisses your forehead, then stands and motions for Mikhail to follow him out –which the eldest Rasputin does without question or complaint.

Nate kisses Wade on the temple, then follows the two brothers into the hall.

You pat an open spot on the bed. “Come sit.”

Wade does, sighing heavily and curling forward so his forehead is resting against your shoulder. “I’m so sorry,” he breathes. “I never wanted anything like this to happen to you.”

“It’s okay,” you murmur, hugging him. “You took good care of me afterwards –and, like Piotr said, it’s not your fault.”

Wade laughs thinly. “Not gonna lie, I was pretty sure he was going to kill me when Nate dragged me over here.”

“Nathan would never let that happen,” you chuckle. “And Piotr wouldn’t do that, either. You drive him a little crazy, but he knows when you’ve instigated something and when you haven’t.”

“I’m always instigating something.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Yeah,” Wade concedes with a sigh. He sits up and gives you a half-hearted smile. “How’re you feeling?”

“Like shit,” you groan. “Withdrawals are a bitch. Cravings, too.”

“Yeah,” Wade says with a chuckle. “Those go away a lot faster when you have a healing factor.”

“Lucky you.” You latch onto his hand. “I didn’t think I’d even get cravings. I’ve never even done drugs before.”

Wade shrugs. “It’s not necessarily about coke; it’s about the dopamine and serotonin. It just becomes a coke thing because of how much gets unleashed on the brain when you take coke.”

“And here you say you aren’t smart,” you tease him.

“I snorted six kilos of cocaine in three minutes after ‘Nessa died,” Wade grumbles. “If that didn’t teach me anything about coke and the brain, nothing would.”

You grimace slightly. “That’s not healthy.”

“Yeah, well, Nathan made me get rid of my stash, so don’t worry. Can’t do anything anymore.”

“That’s probably for the best.”

“Says who?”

“Scientists and doctors everywhere. And also Nathan.”

Wade huffs, though there’s no real anger behind the noise. “Well, I know who I’m listening to.” He pauses, then smiles and checks you gently with his shoulder. “Love you, sis.”

You grin and check him back –well, as much as you can in your state. “Love you, too, bro.”

***

Here are the resources I used when writing this fic:

Cocaine:

-https://www.drugfreeworld.org/drugfacts/cocaine/effects-of-cocaine.html

-https://drugabuse.com/cocaine/effects-use/

-https://drug.addictionblog.org/how-long-does-cocaine-last/

-https://www.therecoveryvillage.com/cocaine-addiction/withdrawal-detox/#gref

-https://www.thefix.com/content/ask-expert-which-street-drugs-dont-mix-antidepressants

-https://www.mind.org.uk/information-support/types-of-mental-health-problems/drugs-recreational-drugs-alcohol/recreational-drugs-medication/#.XTWlDOhKjIU

-https://www.therecoveryvillage.com/cocaine-addiction/cocaine-overdose/#gref

-https://www.mentalhelp.net/substance-abuse/cocaine/overdose/

-https://deserthopetreatment.com/drug-overdose/how-much-cocaine/

Drug-induced seizures:

-https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC4767205/

Epilepsy (for general understanding on seizures):

-https://www.epilepsy.com/start-here/about-epilepsy-basics/what-happens-during-seizure

-http://wwwp.medtronic.com/Newsroom/LinkedItemDetails.do?itemId=1160041417054&itemType=fact_sheet&lang=en_IN

[bumblebeerror]

Antidepressants Are Not Happy Pills

Hey so, I wanna clear something up?

Background:

I used to take antidepressants. I don’t anymore, because I can’t handle the shit my insurance gives me over them, and since I’d rather not get a 60+ mg script and then have them refuse to fill it for 2+ weeks, I refuse to go back on them. Again: not because they didn’t work. They did! Not for everything, but I definitely felt more even than I ever have, before or since. I stopped because of insurance, because they were messing with my other meds, and because the withdrawals caused me severe anxiety and mild paranoia.

But that’s not the point. My personal choice doesn’t in any way mean that I think nobody should take them.

I want to talk about something I hear a lot.

“Antidepressants are just Happy Pills. If you cheer up, you won’t need them.”

I cringe every single time I hear it.

Antidepressants are not happy pills. This isn’t some strawberry flavored “Joy” from We Happy Few. Antidepressants are medications that even out your brain. How?

They fall into two camps. MAOIs (Monoamine Oxidase Inhibitors) were the first antidepressants. They’re rarely used now because of the numerous drug interactions they’re susceptible to. MAOIs work by inhibiting the production and absorption of monoamine oxidase, which boosts the absorption of dopamine, seratonin, and norepinephrine.

SSRIs (Selective Seratonin Reuptake Inhibitors) work similarly: by boosting seratonin levels specifically, they also inhibit receptors in the brain from absorbing excess of other hormones.

So... that certainly sounds like happy pills. Right? Boosting happy chemicals? But that’s not it.

Depression occurs because those chemicals aren’t being created at the right levels: specifically, depression is most strongly linked to Seratonin underproduction. Serotonin isn’t necessarily a “happy” chemical: it’s linked to memory and learning, though it does create a “reward” response as well. Since those with depression lack the correct serotonin level, they often have trouble with concentration, learning, memory, and self worth.

MAOIs and SSRIs are not happy pills. They create the needed conditions for seratonin levels to even out and create a sort of “base” to keep a person out of depressive episodes so that they have a chance to put together coping mechanisms, work through their depression, and get their lives together. It’s not often that an antidepressant is prescribed indefinitely.

I haven’t met a single person with depression who hasn’t been told to “just cheer up”. But I personally hate the idea of antidepressants being happy pills even more. They don’t make you happy. They make you fuctional so that someday, you can stop taking them and be happy for real.

I haven’t reached that day yet. In fact, I think I might be the farthest from it I’ve ever been. But nobody’s struggle should be minimized because they take “happy pills”.

[cyanpeacock]

Realtalk(tm): Daily Life And Shit Like That

OK, another reasonably good day?

I feel okay about myself. I sorted something out with my welfare advisor and then did a bunch of my structural cell biology tutorial work. Some fun things in there, cytoskeletons are very cool. 

Went to counselling after that. I was... surprised, because I was anxious, and my brain clocked out a few times talking about difficult things, and I cried several times? 

I’m like... okay. 

This doesn’t feel as bad as it used to, but it’s obviously still, like... interfering with my living. I’m getting through my days quietly covering up tears and suchlike. I don’t react very well to physical proximity, and conversation still makes me anxious enough to lose track of things, but I can cope with it?

I did forget to eat properly. I’ve had three coffees and a banana. I have a sandwich I’m eating right now, which is like, okay? It’s food and I’m thankful to have it. Also got ready meals in the fridge, so if I get hungry later I’ll have something quick and easy to consume. 

Man, like, it’s a lot. It’s all been a heck of a lot. I’m very glad I have these two years part-time to slow down, and make some sense of things.

Uhh... coherent narrative?

Born into a nasty shitty house in a nasty shitty part of a broadly very well-off country. 

Dad yells at and hits mum. Mum yells at and hits me. Dad’s mum and mum’s mum probably did the same. 

It does not feel good, right, or normal. 

I hear a speaker give a presentation on abuse in primary school, and recognise what’s happening to me in it. 

I have trouble in school, lash out at teachers, I struggle badly emotionally with things I don’t understand.

Police and social services get involved briefly, then abandon the case. Mental health services get involved, promptly break confidentiality, and I take this badly, because I’m a vulnerable child. Mum now knows she has a crazy kid who hears voices. I tried to keep this a secret, because I knew she wouldn’t know what the fuck to do with that. 

Things get worse. School refusal, lashing out, blah blah. 

Mum tries to do better. I don’t trust her. She gets it badly wrong, often. I’m confused, I’m anxious, I’m depressed, I’m suicidal, I’m self-harming.

I go to secondary school. The school has virtually no pastoral care, a bullying culture (students and teachers alike), and cares more about its league tables than the welfare of its students. I’m a Problem Child(tm) with great grades, so they put an extra shitton of pressure on me specifically, because I’m ~gifted and talented~. 

Things get worse, I self-harm more, I get more anxious, I’m frequently suicidal. 

Mum goes through a few partners. One sticks around, they want to get married at first, they end up in a horrible fight, I get dragged into it, I feel responsible for mediating and keeping the peace, I can’t do this because of my position in life. 

The conflict gets really bad. I’m basically tearing myself apart to try and withstand the pressure. Living with my mother makes me feel like shit, because she can’t take care of me emotionally, I need professional support. Stepdad does better with it, but is still an ass, just a different kind. They’re framing all this as some kind of political conflict, I guess because those were the terms they fundamentally disagreed on. 

I fucking snap, because doing A-levels at this shitty secondary school is killing me, and living with my birth family is draining me so badly, and it all Takes the Piss(tm), so one night I find I can’t cross the threshold into my mum’s home and end up on a late train to Leicester.

I don’t make it all the way, so I “sleep” overnight in a bus station in Nottingham in the middle of winter, freezing my little tits off. 

I make it to Leicester in the morning. Hooray. Move in with stepdad, things turn much better! For a while. 

I’m still unhappy. I get prescribed cocodamol for headaches, instead of triptans for migraine, and I get addicted. I’m still self-harming. I’m in a relationship, and I’m insecure as hell, and I’m seriously harming the people I love. 

I go to college. I start A-levels again. Relationship falls apart. I’m depressed, suicidal, self-harming, anxious, etc etc etc. Overdosing a lot. My stepdad is losing patience with me. Eventually I come home late, we get into a physical altercation, I end up on the street because I’m not going back to that bastard, and I don’t feel safe or happy living with my mother. 

Cops pick me up and take me to hospital (familiar place by this point). I’m there for a while. They end up discharging me to the street. I declare myself homeless to the council, show up at college an absolute state, end up getting a call saying there’s a room for me in the YMCA.

I move into the YMCA. It... is a homeless hostel. Drugs help it feel less shit. By this point I’m like, a full-time pothead and pill popper. Benefits are fucked, I have to work alongside full-time college, I don’t get along with the other residents. I get all eating-disordered. I’m seeing a counsellor by this point, who actually helps, unlike all the mental health professionals I’ve seen before. 

I finish my A-levels. I do quite well. I get a council flat.

Move into council flat. Sad and lonely. Glad to have a place, alone as fuck in the world, furious and hurt. Still doing drugs, when I can afford them. I’m beyond pissed with the people who raised me, I’m hearing them yelling at me even though nobody is in the room, it’s ugly. Somewhere in this period I get a diagnosis of BPD. 

I start at university. I have no idea how I’m supposed to treat myself, and burn out halfway to the end of the year. Crisis team gets involved a lot. I find my counsellor privately, and start seeing him again. I take up a meditation practice. It helps, mostly.

The university let me finish year 1 the next academic year, and agree to let me study part-time for second year. I’m still very unstable, I’m kicking my codiene habit, I’m working on things like breath control and grounding techniques that just made me furious and miserable every time I’d tried them before. 

I finish first year, with flying colours. Summer holidays come. I quit smoking pot, I hate my antipsychotic (it does its job, but I feel like shit on it), my antidepressant is making me manic but I don’t know it. My antidepressant is stopped by the doctors, and I refuse to take my ugly slow zombie antipsychotic. 

I go absolutely mental.

Full psychotic mania. MHS let me down again by refusing to acknowledge my concerns when I do get to see them. I go battier and battier until I tear apart my council flat and go AWOL. I’m running all over the shop completely out of my mind. People I’d trusted would help me, don’t help me. Hospitals admit and discharge me on the same day. MHS are suddenly very concerned about me, despite the resounding lack of fucks given by the psychiatrist who saw me as my breakdown was Escalating(tm). 

So yeah, I’m wack. Trauma. Stress. Withdrawal. My ego is dead. I’m running around on trains all over the country. There are six men living in this body. Alright. Okay. This is fun, and painful, and... oh, wait, these guys really love each other? Huh.

The university steps in when I end up sneaking into a building on campus and sleeping there overnight. They put me into halls temporarily, help me out with finance and admin, and contact medical professionals to try and convene a case review. Counsellor sees me through part of my psychotic break. 

Eventually I clear up my flat. I move back in. I’m... okay?

I’m literally just like, okay, well, this might as well happen? 

I stumble with drugs a few times, I keep working on my Coping Skills(tm), I notice I’m using coping skills without consciously going “OKAY shit I need to use a Skill(tm) here”. I go to university. I cope well enough. 

I’m processing my whole psychotic experience. I take it a lot of ways. Eventually I understand the world my brain created as a reflection of the world I’ve seen right in front of me. I lived there. It wasn’t really any different to anything I’d seen before? Actually, it was kinda better, I wanted it all to stay, the six guys I was really loved each other, and it was nice to feel that. 

I clock something. Oh? Humans need... humans need other humans? Like, they don’t, but... ah, fuck, like, I require this? Like, if I’m gonna live A Full Life(tm)? They’re not all going to hurt me? There is the possibility for love without a history of serious, self-destroying hurt? 

I start believing that I really could just, like... meet people? Talk to them? Make a friend? And that it could feel good, instead of just like, a painful and exhausting chore? I start thinking about where I might go, and when, and my mind gives me less reasons not to show up. 

So... that’s where I’m at?

Uh, okay.

What... do I make of myself?

Sick man. Getting better. Coping with it?

Okay. That’s alright. I can keep working with that?

[self-critical-automaton]

Whats Been Going On With Me Lately

So basicly the TLDR is:

I’ve been super ill in weird and new brain ways since about mid-december, when withdrawal from my antidepressants resulted in strange intense psychological events, and I’ve been dealing with the fallout and day-to-day distress ever since. I’m terrified that i might have suffered permanent alterations/damage to my mental state, but who can say.

Details under the cut for anyone who wants to know how ive been doing, or wants to hear about what happens when you quit a high dose of fluoxetine cold turkey after five or six years.

Or for anyone who is going through something similar and wants some info/hope, since withdrawal experiences seem to be super idiosyncratic and variable and its almost impossible to find detailed descriptions.

I’d really appreciate it being read, esp. by people in my life, but dont feel compelled or whatever idk i dont make the rules but srsly please read it if you can it took a lot of time and effort

PS: this and several other articles on that blog were a huge help to me getting through the first couple phases, if you’re having trouble with withdrawal please go read PPS: fine to reblog, in fact please do

In 2017 I started getting painful physical side effects from my antidepressants, which gradually got worse until in lateish-2018 I decided to stop taking them outright. Everyone ever says you shouldn’t quit antidepressants cold-turkey, and they are right, but I’d been taking them inconsistently due to the pain, and I was beginning to suspect they’d stopped helping me anyway, so it seemed the best option.

I quit in probably mid-October and for a couple months felt much the same as usual, but then around the 13th of December it all kicked off. At first I had no idea what was happening, and I thought I was suffering a sudden and intense flu coinciding with a bad depressive spike, but after a couple days I figured out that withdrawal can be offset by weeks or months in rare cases, and decided this is what must be happening. That first round of Withdrawal Time had a few soft-edged but distinct phases (lasting about a week each), and I went through by far the worst experience in my entire life, closely followed by the second-worst and then third-worst.

Round One Start! Phase One: intense existential dread

It kicked of very suddenly, around the 13th december, getting rapidly worse over a couple days. I was paralysed with fear as my mind sunk into thinking in infinite circles, unable to do anything other but endlessly contemplate and debate morbid philosophical topics, forced to confront the inevitability of death, emptiness of life, terror of oblivion, impossibility of afterlife, and so on. I also suffered sensory experiences similar to those ive heard described by people who take drugs like LSD, or very severe fever dreams. Sensations of expanded perception, becoming trapped in imaginary scenarios on other planes, that sort of thing.

In this phase I ate almost nothing, and over that week lost 4 or 5 kg. I also had some flu symptoms, mostly as fevers and chills, and could ony, really sleep in short bursts of a couple hours each. There was very little I could safely occupy myself with, as almost all media (books, games, film, fiction and nonfiction, everything really) would in some way trigger me into thinking about an existential topic, and then the terror would resume. I spent what time I could working to fix the problems with my life that I had suddenly become aware of (my social isolation, my medial issues, my mental health, etc), so I made a lot of phone calls, doctor visits, and applied to some mental health counseling services. I also started looking for avenues to make friends and acquaintances online and in person, and did a lot of research on antidepressant withdrawal.

Towards the end of this phase, the dread got more manageable and began to ease off, and I found I could play simple puzzle games to help occupy myself during the day. Listening to certain podcasts also was a source of relief and distraction. However, things remained bad in the morning and evenings, and I ended up referring to these times as ‘morning hell’ and ‘evening hell’. Also, I began to keep a basic daily log of my symptoms.

Phase Two: generalized anxiety

As I segued into this phase, the existential dread mostly withdrew during the day, leaving instead a sense of severe generalized anxiety. I’ve had issues with anxiety in the past, but it’s always been event-related or social, so Generalized Anxiety Disorder style anxiety was an interesting addition to my mental health cocktail. I still suffered the existential dread, but primarily during the Morning and Evening Hells, and as occasional spikes during the day. Mostly, I felt like it was off to one side somewhere, and felt anxiety about thinking about existential topics.

I got little done, but was able to occupy myself with podcasts, housework, simple games, and (oddly enough) Star Trek: The Original Series. Almost anything else I tried would worsen the anxiety, and threaten to trigger existential dreads. During this time I started sleeping more normally, but also began waking every night with chest pains and leg pains, which of course caused a great deal of anxiety about heart issues and blood clots. I also began to feel like I had begun to ‘wake up’ after having sleepwalked through the past year or so.

Phase Three: misc badfeels and weird sensory effects

As phase 2 segued into this one, around christmas day, the anxiety started to recede during the day. I’d get a window of safety varying from half an hour to a few hours, usually starting in the early afternoon. I began to leave the house more, going for walks with my partner, which could occupy me safely during bad feeling times. During those windows, I often still felt bad, but it felt like a ‘normal’ bad, like depression and ennui, rather than the very active generalized anxiety or severe dread. I also began to be able to read again, and to play games more widely. I committed to attending some local social events (some board games/RPG things, and a support group) and mostly tried to get on with life. 

I was frequently quite sluggish and slow, and didn't usually get much work done, even napping occasionally. As my days improved, my nights worsened, with bad sleep and bad dreams. I would also have odd brief sensory effects, such as hallucinations and waking dreams. For the first time since withdrawal started, I began to worry that I was slipping backwards and getting worse again. Up until that point, I had felt like, as awful as I was feeling, there was a slow but consistent improvement.

By early January I was having inconsistent bouts of the existential stuff and the generalized anxiety in the day, but looking back probably not as intensely as in the earlier phases.

Phase Four: inconsistent rehash

Phase four was similar to phase three, except without the consistency that phase three had (at least earlier on) of ‘morning bad, day safe, evening bad’. It also lasted longer than the ‘about a week’ of previous phases. I had ups and downs of general bad feelings throughout the day, with occasional spikes or longer bouts of existential fear or generalized anxiety, and I developed an aversion to going to bed (as most mornings would feel worse than evenings). I usually slept badly, and I started waking up during what I’m pretty sure were sleep-panic-attacks an hour or so after going to sleep. Chest pains and so on were very common and worrying, so I talked to the doctor a lot and ended up on some cardio waiting lists.

I had some depressive episodes which felt very much like the kind of depressive episodes I’ve had over my life, and about the same topics, though more intensely. It was almost comforting, in a back-to-normal sort of way.

Frankly, this whole phase felt like a random jumble of previous phase symptoms and pre-withdrawl mental health stuff, almost like dimming lightbulbs on an old electrical system, fading in and out and going on and off randomly and unpredictably.

Towards the end of January, I had a bad bout of flu, but during that time I felt a lot better in mental health terms. I don’t know if this was due to the distraction of a big obvious ‘thing to survive’ or if it was a natural upswing as part of the arc of that phase. After I got over the flu, I had a couple days of existential stuff reasserting itself, and I was worried that it was a second bout of Phase One, but I stopped recording my log on the 5th of February, so it’s hard to recall anything past this.

Interstitial Period

I’m pretty sure that for most of February, I felt ‘back to normal’, and was feeling more-or-less how I had been before withdrawal kicked off. That said, my capacity to occupy myself has not really recovered. I’m occasionally able to play games or read, but I often have a bad sense of ennui. This may be my natural yearly Seasonal Affective Disorder, or a natural depressive episode (I have consistently if infrequently had times where I’m unable to occupy myself and suffer ennui, just as part of being a depressed person), but I’ve not had one this long before.

I have a strong fear that my cognition/way of being/mental state has been permanently altered by that first phase, that it in some way ‘opened my eyes’ and now I will never be able to go back to how I was. I’m scared that I might never be free of this existential dread lurking in the back of my mind, but also trying to dissemble, forget, or distract myself feels like a foolish naivety. Its something we all have to face, so postponing the inevitable is pointless, but also I can’t overcome or accept it, so I’m trapped in a limbo.

Round Two?

After feeling mostly ’back to normal’ for a while, I’ve been having some bad times again. For about a week or so (end of febuary/beginning of march), I’ve been having existential fears and the ‘big mix of generalized bad feeling’ again, on and off during the day, and especially in mornings/evenings. I was very afraid that it was the beginning of a downslope into a full repeat of this entire cycle, but it’s been pretty consistent so far, rather than getting worse.

I’m hoping that this is indeed Round Two, and that its just a lot less bad than Round One, which would be consistent with what I’ve read about this stuff.

Final Thoughts

Phase one was the worst thing ive gone through in my life, but on good days I feel somewhat optimistic that it’s had a ‘rock bottom’ kind of effect, that I can find some positive things to come out of it.

It’s given me some perspective, and it’s helped me come out of a sleepwalking time in my life. I feel what i’m missing in my life much more keenly (social isolation/ lack of friends, lack of passion, lack of purpose/drive/meaning in my life), but I’m also able to work on them to some extent for the first time in years.

That said, I know these take a lot of time and work to fix, but it’s hard not to look at the glacially slow progress i’ve made as ‘no progress in basically three months’, and sink back into the things-will-never-get-better-so-why-try kind of depression.

I’m gonna keep trying, though.

[paleorecipecookbook]

How to Ease Symptoms of Postpartum Depression with Natural Treatments

Depression and postpartum depression—often abbreviated as PPD—still carry a stigma that hinders optimal prevention and treatment. Unfortunately, most moms who go back to their doctors for postpartum check-ups are given little more than some general mental-health advice and perhaps a prescription for an antidepressant. Read on to learn about the potential causes of PPD, the downside of antidepressants, and nine natural treatments that could help.

Use these links to skip ahead to another section of this article:

The conventional model of depression

The baby blues vs. postpartum depression

Recognizing the signs of postpartum depression

Five causes of postpartum depression

Why conventional antidepressants don’t work for everyone

Nine natural treatments for postpartum depression

The Conventional Model of Depression Isn’t as Simple as You May Think

I have discussed depression and anxiety quite a bit, but I haven’t covered postpartum depression before in much detail. This article will review what conventional medicine gets wrong about depression, what unique factors might contribute to postpartum depression, and what natural alternatives to antidepressants may be effective.

One in seven new moms experiences postpartum depression. If you’re currently dealing with it, you don’t have to go it alone. Find out more about what causes postpartum depression and get nine natural treatments to help you counteract it. #healthylifestyle #wellness #chriskresser

Conventional medicine describes depression as a simple chemical imbalance, where, for reasons mostly out of your control, your brain isn’t producing enough of these “feel good” neurotransmitters:

Serotonin

Dopamine

Norepinephrine

Selective serotonin reuptake inhibitors (SSRIs) are the most widely prescribed class of antidepressants. SSRIs are designed to increase serotonin levels in the brain by preventing its reabsorption. The solution sounds straightforward—take an SSRI to fix a brain chemical imbalance, and you’ll feel happier. Unfortunately, the data just do not support this overly simplistic model.

In his book Blaming the Brain: The Truth about Drugs and Mental Health, Dr. Elliot Valenstein, a professor emeritus of psychology and neuroscience at the University of Michigan, explains how the chemical imbalance model of depression just doesn’t hold up to scrutiny:

Reducing serotonin, dopamine, and norepinephrine doesn’t produce depression in humans, even though it appears to in animals

Drugs that raise serotonin and norepinephrine levels, like amphetamines and cocaine, do not alleviate depression

The majority of depressed patients don’t have low serotonin levels; only about 25 percent actually do

In some cases, antidepressants have no clinically meaningful advantage over placebos. (2, 3) First-line pharmaceutical treatment for depression only works about half the time. (4, 5) When antidepressants do work, it takes weeks for patients to feel the effects. Furthermore, because of how they impact the brain, antidepressants can make depression relapse more likely once medication is stopped. (6, 7) (This long-term customer model is music to the pharmaceutical companies’ ears.)

Rather than viewing depression as a chemical imbalance, the evidence better supports an inflammatory-cytokine model of depression.

Before I get into the underlying causes of depression, let’s look more closely at a specific type of depression unique to new mothers—postpartum depression, or PPD.

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The Baby Blues vs. Postpartum Depression

Postpartum depression is often misrepresented as the “baby blues” on one end of the depression spectrum, with postpartum psychosis on the other end. But PPD and the so-called baby blues aren’t the same thing. These are three distinct conditions, and there are some big differences among them.

The baby blues affect up to 75 percent of mothers in the first 10 days following birth, but the symptoms—usually mood swings and bouts of crying—are mild and don’t last long.

Postpartum depression lasts much longer and is more deeply felt than the baby blues and can set in at any time during the first year following birth. Women with PPD may have trouble connecting with their baby, have doubts about their parenting abilities, develop sleep issues beyond the lack of sleep often associated newborn care, and may lose interest in activities they used to enjoy.

Postpartum psychosis is a psychiatric emergency. These mothers may have thoughts of hurting themselves or their baby and can develop hallucinations.

PPD is generally diagnosed through a screening questionnaire, most often the Edinburgh Postnatal Depression Scale (EPDS) or the Postpartum Depression Screening Scale (PDSS). Most studies estimate that postpartum depression affects 10 to 15 percent of postpartum women, but some estimates approach 30 percent. (8, 9)

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How to Recognize Postpartum Depression in Yourself or a Loved One

The list of postpartum symptoms includes the following: (10)

Feeling sad, hopeless, or overwhelmed

Crying more than usual

Worrying or feeling anxious

Feeling irritable or restless

Sleeping too much or too little

Having trouble concentrating

Feeling anger or rage

Losing interest in once-enjoyable activities

Frequent headaches or other body aches

Eating too little or too much

Having trouble bonding with your baby

Doubting your parenting ability

Withdrawing from or avoiding friends and family

Despite these seemingly hard-to-miss signs, postpartum depression isn’t always obvious. To the outside world, a mother may appear perfectly content while suffering on the inside. Many of these symptoms, like worrying or not eating well, are experienced by most mothers of newborns. But PPD is far more intense and drawn out. The last symptom on the list—withdrawing from or avoiding friends and family—is perhaps the most important. Too many stories of postpartum depression have ended tragically, and too many times loved ones said afterward, “I didn’t even know she was suffering.” If a new mother goes out of her way to physically avoid others—discouraging visitors, not wanting to chat or email, or not leaving home—it’s a bit more apparent that she may have an issue with PPD. But often, this “withdrawal” is emotional, not merely physical (and attributable to having a newborn), so it may be easy for a friend or relative to miss—and easy for a PPD sufferer to hide.

If someone you’re close to is a new mother, listen between the lines. If she says she is completely in love and enjoying every minute, give her the opportunity to open up and share the not-so-good parts of her experience. She might be feeling too guilty to disclose the unpleasant feelings of motherhood upfront.

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What Causes Postpartum Depression?

If low serotonin isn’t the primary cause or symptom of postpartum depression, then what is? Some possible answers may be found among the five the biggest contributors to PPD: hormonal imbalances, poor nutrition, stress, thyroid conditions, and inflammation.

1. Hormonal Imbalances

Women experience a remarkable breadth of hormonal changes during pregnancy, labor and delivery, and postpartum. During pregnancy, progesterone levels rise to 20 times their pre-pregnancy levels, and estrogen levels climb even higher, reaching 200 to 300 times higher than baseline by 20 weeks of pregnancy. (11) Estrogen can increase the production of GABA, an antianxiety and anti-pain neurotransmitter that promotes relaxation and “feeling good,” and progesterone stimulates the GABA receptor in the brain.

After delivery, a dramatic drop in progesterone and estrogen may contribute to the moodiness of baby blues. A woman’s brain and ovaries must readapt to produce the body’s needed estrogen and progesterone again, all while dealing with a drop in the pregnancy hormone human chorionic gonadotropin (or hCG) and an increase in oxytocin (especially if breastfeeding). If a woman’s own endocrine system doesn’t properly reestablish control of hormone production, postpartum depression can follow. (12, 13)

2. Nutritional Deficiencies

As a pregnancy progresses, the increasing energy demands of the fetus can take a toll on a mother-to-be, particularly if her diet is inadequate; pregnant women are extra susceptible to nutrient deficiencies. Furthermore, morning sickness (which typically ends in the second trimester), as well as food aversions and cravings that can come and go throughout a pregnancy, can put a damper on healthy eating. Specifically, there’s evidence that not getting enough vitamin D, iron, and DHA and EPA can affect the mood and cognitive health of the mother.

Vitamin D

Observational studies have found correlations between a low level of vitamin D during pregnancy and a greater risk of developing postpartum depression. (14, 15, 16, 17) Spending some time in the sun each day can help keep vitamin D levels adequate, but if that isn’t possible due to climate or career, consider a vitamin D3 supplement if levels drop below 35 ng/mL. (And vitamin D is also very important for a baby’s development in utero. If you are pregnant or are thinking of becoming pregnant, talk to your practitioner about the importance of safe supplementation with a quality prenatal vitamin.)

Iron

If pregnant women don’t have adequate iron stores, the blood loss from birth could deplete iron levels, increase exhaustion, and contribute to postpartum depression. One study found that increasing ferritin levels (a measure of iron storage) in non-anemic pregnant women decreased the chance of postpartum depression later on, indicating that adequate iron levels and iron storage are important. (18)

EPA and DHA

Some varieties of prenatal vitamins now include an extra EPA/DHA pill to boost omega-3 intake. Studies have shown that low levels of omega-3 fatty acids are associated with depression, at least in non-pregnant populations. (19) But, clinical trials using omega-3 supplements have shown mixed results and, in some cases, show no benefit over placebo in treating depression, including the largest trial, conducted on nearly 2,400 pregnant women. (20)

Rather than rely on omega-3 supplements, I encourage pregnant women to consume cold-water, fatty fish a couple times of week if possible, as fish intake during pregnancy is associated with lower risk of postpartum depression. (21) Unfortunately, because of the somewhat misguided concerns about mercury levels in fish, women often shy away from fish during pregnancy. But as long as you are avoiding fish varieties like shark, swordfish, tilefish, and king mackerel, as well as raw fish, the high selenium content in most fish mitigates the risk of mercury toxicity. (Selenium binds with mercury and deactivates it.)

3. Stress

Bringing home a newborn baby is challenging—a beautiful experience, yes, but challenging. Without a reliable support system, the responsibilities of motherhood—combined with sleep deprivation and breastfeeding issues that can arise in the early days and weeks—can all be overwhelmingly stressful and lead to depression.

In the short term, stress can actually benefit cognitive performance and teach the brain to adapt more effectively to stressors in the future. (22, 23) Chronic stress, on the other hand, reduces synaptic plasticity, which means the brain has more trouble learning to adapt and respond appropriately to stressful situations. Pregnancy is accompanied by sustained high levels of glucocorticoid stress hormones, and higher cortisol levels are associated with higher risk of depression. (24, 25)

Chronic stress can also lead to disrupted hypothalamus–pituitary–adrenal (HPA) axis function, another symptom common in depressed patients. The HPA system undergoes many changes during pregnancy, and the more drastic shifts have been linked to the development of PPD. (26, 27, 28) In fact, in one study, up to 80 percent of women post-birth exhibited impaired HPA negative feedback (though not all developed postpartum depression). (29)

4. Thyroid Issues

An estimated 20 million Americans have some form of thyroid disease, and women are disproportionately affected. (30) Up to 23 percent of postpartum women experience thyroid dysfunction, and one in 12 develops an autoimmune thyroid condition like Hashimoto’s disease. (31) Despite the levels of thyroid dysfunction in women, thyroid panels before and after pregnancy are rarely done. The typical thyroid lab panel only tests for T4 and thyroid-stimulating hormone (TSH), but a full panel should include:

Thyroid hormones T3 and T4

TSH

Reverse T4 and reverse T3

Thyroid antibodies against TPO and TG

The link between thyroid issues and depression has long been recognized. (32) Symptoms for hypothyroidism—extreme fatigue, weight gain or inability to lose weight, mood swings, and brain fog—overlap with PPD symptoms, easily leading to misdiagnosis. A woman might have postpartum depression and hypothyroidism, triggered by stress plus the drop in hormones experienced after birth. But instead of running thyroid panels and testing hormones, most conventional doctors will prescribe an antidepressant and hope for the best. Functional Medicine practitioners, however, embrace the “Test, don’t guess” approach—and we will work with you to get to the root of health issues.

5. Inflammation

Systemic inflammation underlies nearly all modern diseases, including Alzheimer’s, autoimmune disease, allergies, and more. Although not limited to just postpartum women, inflammation may be at the root of depression, too. Some of the evidence to support this claim includes the following:

Depression often accompanies acute, inflammatory illnesses (33)

Higher levels of systemic inflammation increase the risk of developing depression (34)

Markers of inflammation often normalize following remission of depression (35)

SSRIs, in addition to increasing serotonin levels, can reduce the production of pro-inflammatory cytokines like TNF-alpha, IL-1, and interferon gamma, while increasing anti-inflammatory cytokines like IL-10. (36, 37) This anti-inflammatory mechanism could explain why SSRIs relieve depressive symptoms in some individuals.

Postpartum women may engage in pro-inflammatory behaviors, such as broken sleep, consuming processed foods that are loaded in inflammatory industrial seed oils and sugar, and general stress, all of which make them vulnerable to inflammation-induced depression.

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Antidepressants: They Don’t Work for Everyone

Antidepressants are cash cows for the pharmaceutical companies. Nearly 13 percent of Americans over the age of 12 take an antidepressant. (38) The global market for antidepressants exceeds $11 billion. (39) That’s a lot of money for a type of drug with questionable effectiveness and high incidence of side effects.

Some clinical trials have demonstrated benefits over placebo, but on average, antidepressants show no benefit over placebo. (40) A 2017 meta-analysis states that: (41)

SSRIs versus placebo seem to have statistically significant effects on depressive symptoms, but the clinical significance of these effects seems questionable and all trials were at high risk of bias.

Although two earlier meta-analyses agreed that SSRIs performed no better than placebo for mild and moderate depression, antidepressants can often mitigate severe depression (42, 43). Antidepressants can be life-saving for some, and these pooled analyses can’t tease out individual responses, which can vary tremendously from person to person. For treatment of PPD, antidepressants have yielded similarly mixed results. (44)

More than half of all antidepressant users experience one or more of the common side effects, including:

Diarrhea

Nausea

Anorexia

Sweating

Forgetfulness

Bleeding

Seizure

Anxiety

Mania

Sleep disruption

Sexual dysfunction

Many users also report “anti-motivational syndrome,” where emotional responses, both good and bad, are blunted. If the benefits of antidepressants clearly outweigh the risks, they might be an option for some women, but they are not the miracle, cure-all drug for everyone.

Breastmilk and Antidepressants—Is There a Concern?

Some moms are worried about antidepressants making their way into breastmilk, which is understandable. Although many SSRIs, Zoloft in particular, are considered to be compatible with breastfeeding, I take that phrase with a huge grain of salt. (45) As mentioned earlier, antidepressants can change the brain of an adult significantly. In adolescence, extra caution is given to antidepressants due to their association with increased suicidal thoughts and behavior in some cases. (46) We just don’t know the short-term or long-term effects on breastfeeding infants. (47)

In sum, antidepressants are sometimes ineffective, they can cause side effects, and they may lead to unwanted brain changes. If you’re uncomfortable with the idea of taking medication, read on to learn about how you can prevent or alleviate the symptoms of postpartum depression with natural treatments.

An Important Note: If you’re currently taking antidepressants, consult with your doctor before making any decisions, and don’t stop taking your medication without medical support.

Abruptly changing your dosage can cause disruptive and even dangerous side effects. Tapering off an SSRI can take weeks (between six and eight), but in my experience, the process is even longer. If you’ve been taking SSRIs for years, you may need months to slowly and safely get the medication out of your system. Perhaps surprisingly, I’ve noticed it takes much longer to completely taper off from the lowest dose than it does to go from the highest dose down to the lowest.

For more information on this topic, I highly recommend Dr. Peter R. Breggin’s book, Psychiatric Drug Withdrawal: A Guide for Prescribers, Therapists, Patients and Their Families.

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Nine Ways to Care for Postpartum Depression with Natural Treatments

If you or a loved one is suffering from PPD or is at risk, natural remedies may be beneficial and can offer powerful alternatives to prescription antidepressants. Many of the remedies I’ll discuss below can also be incorporated before birth, especially for those with a history of depression or postpartum depression.

1. Start Seeing a Psychotherapist

Compared to antidepressant medication, psychotherapy is cost effective, well tolerated, and generally more effective for treating depression, especially in the long term. (48) A meta-analysis and review examined 28 trials and reported that psychotherapy intervention during pregnancy significantly reduced the number of women who developed PPD. (49)

Specifically, mindfulness-based cognitive therapy (MBCT) and cognitive behavioral therapy have great track records of mitigating postpartum depression.

Cognitive therapy helps prevent postpartum depression. In pregnant women with a history of depression, MBCT decreased depression relapse compared to other treatments, including antidepressants. (50) MBCT is also a viable treatment option for postpartum depression.

Cognitive therapy helps treat postpartum depression. In 2018, a meta-analysis reviewed 20 randomized controlled trials that compared the effectiveness of BCT against typical treatment methods (like medication). Women who underwent psychotherapy saw greater improvements in their depression symptoms in both the short and long term than women who received other treatments. (51)

Cognitive therapy is superior to antidepressant treatment. In one study, MBCT therapy worked better than both SSRI treatment and a combination of SSRI and MBCT treatment. (52) In another study, adding an SSRI to psychotherapy treatment offered no benefit beyond psychotherapy alone. (53)

Unfortunately, a major barrier to getting psychotherapy treatment is the perceived “difficulty” of the process, from researching and finding a therapist to making (and keeping) an appointment. (54) Even under less stressful circumstances, it isn’t always easy to ask for help—but for a new mom experiencing the feelings of hopelessness that accompany PPD, it’s especially challenging. Navigating health insurance, locating a provider, and simply trying to find time to make the necessary phone calls can seem overwhelming.

Before giving up, consider the following:

Start with baby steps. Break down the process of making an appointment into several steps you can complete over the course of a couple days. For example, first identify providers that fit your criteria, and then set aside a few different blocks of time to call them.

Bring your baby. If you don’t have someone to watch your baby, many therapists and psychologists are more than willing to see you with baby in tow.

Give it a few sessions. Don’t ditch your provider after one session. Try a few meetings before deciding if it’s a good fit.

Stop if it doesn’t feel right. On the other side of the spectrum, don’t be afraid to try a different therapist. You might not click with the first, or even the second, provider. But that’s okay. You’ll find the right person.

Consider telephone-based or internet-delivered psychotherapy. If leaving the house just isn’t an option, this type of psychotherapy can also be effective. (55, 56)

2. Get Regular Exercise

During the first six to eight weeks after delivery, you should be resting and taking care of yourself and your new baby, especially if you’re recovering from a Caesarian section or other pregnancy complications. But when you get the green light from your healthcare provider, taking up an exercise routine could help reduce the risk of, and even treat, postpartum depression.

In two randomized controlled trials, 12 weeks of an exercise intervention for postpartum women reduced the EPDS score (measure for depression) compared to controls. (57, 58) In another study, moderate exercise five times per week resulted in greater remission rates compared to antidepressant medication. (59) As long as you start off slow and exercise safely, the only side effect of exercise is good health.

You might be asking, “When can a new mom find time to exercise?” It’s a valid question. A sustainable and enjoyable exercise routine is the one you’re most likely to stick with, as adherence to exercise interventions in studies (and in real life) can be quite low. (60) But do what other moms do, and get creative:

Easiest of all: take a stroller walk with your baby, and pick up the pace as you get your energy back

Try a Mommy and Me yoga or other exercise class, where babies are part of the routine

Buy a subscription to postpartum exercise videos you can stream from home

Dance (safely) with your baby

Workout during baby’s first nap of the day, to make it a top priority

And remember that before you know it, your baby will be an active toddler—a workout in itself!

3. Use Light Therapy

Our ancestors spent most of their waking hours outdoors, a lifestyle in stark contrast to modern society. Seasonal affective disorder tends to peak during winter, when sunlight exposure bottoms out. (61) Harnessing the mood-improving effects of sunlight, light therapy has been proven effective for treating both seasonal affective disorder and non-seasonal-related depression. (62) In some cases, combining light therapy with antidepressants was no more effective than light therapy alone. (63)

Typically, light therapy involves exposure to a bright light for 10 to 20 minutes per day (to reach about 10,000 lux units of light) in the morning. Light therapy is believed to positively affect mood, sleep, circadian rhythms, and HPA axis activity. (64) Two studies have used bright light as a treatment for perinatal and/or postpartum depression. Both studies demonstrated clinical improvement with light therapy, with up to 75 percent reduction in depression. (65, 66)

Some minor side effects can accompany light therapy, including headache, eye strain, nausea, and agitation, but these effects are mild and usually transient. Critics of light therapy question its efficacy because a proper placebo doesn’t exist—participants will know whether or not they are being exposed to bright light. But even so, does that matter if light therapy yields positive results?

4. Try Acupuncture

Acupuncture also faces criticism for lack of double-blind, placebo-controlled trials. Acupuncture may improve mood by decreasing stress-induced cortisol release. (67) The results of acupuncture for the treatment of depression and postpartum depression are mixed. (68, 69, 70)

In a review of acupuncture for depression, there was no evidence that medication yielded better outcomes than acupuncture. (71)

Generally well tolerated with few side effects, acupuncture from a competent, licensed acupuncturist may be worth pursuing for postpartum depression. However, more robust studies are needed.

5. Start Taking Probiotics

The gut microbiome interacts with and influences the body’s organ and systems, including: (72)

Heart

Thyroid

Skin

Bone

Immune system

The brain

The brain and gut communicate with each other. The vagus nerve, responsible for parasympathetic processes like heart rate, runs from the brain to your visceral organs. (73) In return, gut bacteria produce neurotransmitters that communicate with the brain. (74) Disrupted gut microbiomes have been associated with psychological disorders, including depression and anxiety. (75) Specifically, recent evidence suggests that the microbiota may regulate serotonin synthesis and secretion. (76) In two small studies, the gut bacteria of individuals with depression were shown to have more pro-inflammatory gut bacteria and less anti-inflammatory gut bacteria than control groups. (77, 78)

When administered to mice, the anti-inflammatory probiotic L. rhamnosus reduced corticosterone and anxious and depressive symptoms. (79) In one small human trial, pregnant women who supplemented with L. rhamnosus through six months postpartum reported lower depression and anxiety scores compared to placebo groups, indicating the therapeutic potential of probiotics for postpartum depression. (80)

We know the gut microbiome drastically shifts during pregnancy, and if that shift ventures towards gut dysbiosis, it could predispose certain women to developing PPD. (81) Take care of your gut by consuming bone broth, fermented foods, and kefir or yogurt, if tolerated.

6. Look into Bioidentical Hormone Therapy

After delivery, women experience dramatic drops in progesterone and estrogens, both of which influence activity at the GABA “feel-good” receptor in the brain. Some data suggest that low progesterone following birth is correlated with the baby blues, but other data haven’t supported any clear link between hormone concentrations and postpartum mood. (82, 83)

Bioidentical progesterone treatment may be a viable alternative to traditional antidepressants. Bioidentical progesterone is not chemically identical to the synthetic progestins found in birth control pills, and most obstetricians and gynecologists are unfortunately unfamiliar with the former as a treatment option. In the 1980s, two studies led by Dr. Katharine Dalton demonstrated the effectiveness of bioidentical progesterone for treating PPD, with remission rates of less than 10 percent. Since the 1980s, progesterone therapy for PPD has been widely used by health professionals trained in Natural Procreative (NaPro) Technology, a women’s health initiative that strives to understand and cooperate with a woman’s reproductive and gynecological health. Progesterone can help alleviate some symptoms of depression in as little as one injection almost immediately. Unfortunately, outside of the NaPro literature, further randomized controlled studies using bioidentical treatment for postpartum depression have yet to be published.

Related to bioidentical progesterone, allopregnanolone, a naturally occurring metabolite of progesterone, has been studied in two clinical trials for PPD treatment. (84, 85) Much like bioidentical progesterone, allopregnanolone showed rapid mood-boosting effects after just one drug infusion. As these trials were very recent, in 2017 and 2018, I am intrigued at the prospect of a fast-acting, more natural option for postpartum depression.

7. Get More Sleep and Rest

More than one-third of American adults admit to not getting enough sleep, and I would bet that number is even higher among new moms. (86) Large meta-analyses have found associations between sleep disturbances and depression in both the general adult population and in postpartum moms. (87, 88) Sleep depression and depression can create a vicious cycle, as each contributes to the other.

Getting enough sleep can seem impossible for new moms, especially in modern Western societies where women have less support than in previous generations. Sleeping when the baby sleeps is not always an option, but aim for it whenever possible.

If you are breastfeeding, not on any medications with drowsy side effects, and a nonsmoker, co-sleeping and side-lying nursing might be good options that offer more sleep. Despite what mainstream organizations want to claim, co-sleeping can be safely done. Check out the La Leche League’s Safe Sleep Seven to find out how to create a safe sleeping environment for you and your baby.

8. Try Supplementing with St. John’s Wort

Many natural health communities tout St. John’s wort as a beneficial treatment for depression, as the herb has been shown to have mood-boosting activity at the serotonin and “feel-good” GABA receptors. (89) In double-blind, placebo-controlled trials, St. John’s wort often performs better than antidepressant medications at reducing depression symptoms, with up to 10 times fewer reported side effects. (90, 91, 92, 93) Of note, St. John’s wort should not be taken concurrently with SSRIs, nor should it be combined with light therapy because it may increase the body’s sensitivity to light.

However, if you are breastfeeding, St. John’s wort might not be the best choice. Even though it is found in breastmilk at “undetectable to low levels,” breastfeeding infants whose mothers supplemented with St. John’s wort had higher instances of drowsiness, colic, and lethargy. (94, 95)

Talk with your provider about other supplements that might be useful for postpartum depression:

Sam-e, which may be especially helpful for women with MTHFR mutations

Vitamin D

Motherwort

Rhodiola

Eleutherococcus

Saffron (96, 97)

Chamomile (98)

9. Set Up a Personal Support Network

Being a new mom can be isolating. In other cultures, women are surrounded and cared for by other women and moms after giving birth. In modern Western societies, extended family often lives far away, and the concept of a “village” helping to raise children is disappearing. Couple that isolation with inadequate parental leave policies and poor sleep, and you have a recipe for depression. Ideally, a postpartum woman would have an extensive support network from friends and family, a generous amount of worry-free leave from her job, and multiple home visits from a medical practitioner as she recovers and adjusts to her new life. (And that’s how it is in many countries around the globe—but not in the United States.)

Most American women only have one checkup four to six weeks after giving birth, although the American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists now recommends that postpartum care be an ongoing process with multiple follow-up appointments. See if your provider is willing to follow a more holistic care model, which would include:

Multiple follow-ups post-birth

Blood work to monitor nutritional stores (beyond iron) and hormone statuses both during and after pregnancy

Full thyroid blood panel during and after pregnancy

Physical therapy referral, if needed for pelvic floor dysfunction or diastasis recti (separation of the abdominal muscles)

Mental health referral, if needed

If you are pregnant, set up a support system as best you can before birth. Here are a few tips to help you get started:

Accept any and all offers of help. Have a list ready for errands that friends and family can run or chores they can do.

Have a freezer meal baby shower. Get everyone together to help you prep dozens of nutrient-dense meals and snacks so you won’t be tempted to eat easily accessible processed foods.

Begin a meditation practice. The Headspace app can help you get started.

Identify nearby lactation consultants for support if you plan to breastfeed.

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I want to close this article with assurance that if you (or a loved one) are suffering from postpartum depression, you are not alone. I urge you to please speak with your healthcare provider immediately about these and other options available for you to get help.

Now I want to hear from you. Have you dealt with postpartum depression? What treatments did you find helpful? Let me know in the comments.

The post How to Ease Symptoms of Postpartum Depression with Natural Treatments appeared first on Chris Kresser.

Source: http://chriskresser.com January 19, 2019 at 08:22PM

[managing-marissas-mind]

Therapy

I started therapy again. This was my first appointment in over a year.

I think one of the things I struggle with most is finding a therapist that I connect with. I have seen a few others in the past and I always stopped going because I felt like I just did not click with them. This made me feel uncomfortable and less willing to open up. At the same time, I find it difficult to find someone new and have to go through the explanation of my life and why I need help all over again.

I am normally against seeing a male (not just for therapy but also any type of physician) but that is what was available so I decided to give it a chance. This is also the first time I have started therapy without a major factor influencing me to. In the past, I have always been in the middle of a major depressive episode or severe breakdown when I made an appointment because I knew I needed immediate help. This time was different. I felt a more positive outlook on the process and really wanted to go to better myself and to continue something that I know I should have never stopped in the past.

One thing I appreciate about therapy is that the appointment is not about becoming medicated. It is truly about talking through your issues. I previously went through a process that involved "medicine management" with a psychiatrist + talk therapy with a counselor. The medicine management led to high doses of antidepressants being prescribed but seeing little to no improvement. I know that it can take your body some time to adjust to these medications, which is why I was on them for over a year. During this time my mood was low, I was so tired I could not keep my eyes open and I had gained over 50 pounds. The weight gain alone made things even worse. At one point, I was running 3-4 miles a day and barely eating but the weight gain would not stop. I refused to look at myself in the mirror. I would cry everyday. None of my clothes fit, I was covered in stretch marks, I looked and felt horrible. I eventually started researching these medications. Now, I realize this is something I should have done to begin with, but as patients we trust our doctors to help us when we are in need and at that time I truly believed these pills would be a "cure." After researching the side effects and reading about other's struggle with the weight gain, I decided to stop taking the medication. I realize I should have consulted with my doctor before doing so, but I did not want to open the door for any opportunity to convince me to continue taking them. Something I did not realize was that we can actually go through withdraw by doing this. I was dizzy, shaking, sweating, vomiting. Even though I felt horrible for a couple of days, the way I felt in the coming weeks was like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders. I began to lose weight and have energy again.

I understand medication might be a huge help to some people. If they do work for you I think that is great; keep taking them. But for some of us, they are just not what we need. I am hoping that I can stick with therapy this time and really see improvement from the process. I am going to give it my best effort.

[specialability]

personal/writing update

tl;dr, brain meds might be influencing my ability to be creative and write, good news is I might be going off the ones i'm currently on rn cause they don't work so uhhh might start writing again soonish? who knows

the tmi version:

So up until age ~19 I wrote fanfic or roleplaying pretty much every day. Then I sort of gradually stopped and didn't write anything again until last summer when I got sick. I was spending so much time drugged up on anti-nausea pills and laying around I decided to watch some BL tv shows that had been recommended to me via FujoCon... that was The Untamed. Then I found out it was based on a book so I read MDZS, then I looked up other danmei tv shows and watched Word of Honour and started reading TYK and really started writing every day again.

It was like going from black and white to colour, something made my imagination turn on again after so many years and I was having a lot of fun. I didn't really know why though and I talked to my therapist about how worried I was that it would just go away again, since I don't know what caused it in the first place. I had short periods of writer's block / depression but mostly it was good. Up until about April. That's when I started feeling like I just lost the ability to come up with ideas again. It's like a switch was flipped in my brain or something.

Well, the only thing that lines up with those periods of creativity/brainlessness is... depression medication. I'm like the textbook "treatment-resistent depression", I've taken every SSRI/SNRI in the book over the past 10+ years, and last year we kind of ran out of options so my doctor and I took a break on trying things until I could fix my physical health problems (gallstones, as it turns out) and my housing issues (needed to get a new roommate to split rent). I was only taking a few lighter/weirder possible brain meds from June 2021. Then in March I started taking a tricyclic antidepressant and that basically coincided with my current writer's block... and I ran out of pills on Thursday and the pharmacy couldn't get any in blah blah blah basically I started feeling more creative again even just not taking my pills for a few days. Now I can't just go off the pills randomly it's not safe (serotonin withdrawal syndrome is Bad, kids) but since it's not doing anything for my depression I will probably taper off them again over the next few weeks.

Long story short, I might get The Magic back soon, hopefully.

I don't want to discourage anyone who is on or trying various brain meds because certainly there's no point in being creative but also being so depressed you can't work or live your life or finish projects etc. But I've tried literally almost every med in the books and none of them work, so there's no point in taking something that doesn't work *and* has all kinds of side-effects, one of which is not being able to do something I really enjoy.

Incidentally, one of the well-known side effects of anti-depressants is lowering your libido / erectile dysfunction / inability to orgasm. And that's been pretty consistent for me too - when I was a teen I was Horny and when I'm on meds I'm basically asexual, don't think about sex at all and don't masturbate. So I'm not saying my writing ability is all about being able to fap but uhhhhh it's correlation not causation lol

[1-420-666-6969]

I was going to post this on Twitter because someone was talking about killing themselves. But it’s just a hard platform to right lengthy stuff on. So, I'll post it on here. Maybe it'll help someone. Maybe it won't.

Ive tried to kill myself a total of three times and nearly killed myself many more times than that. And it affects how I think about suicide and how I react when other people talk about it. I really don’t want other people to kill themselves. And I fucking suck at talking to people, so I might not even really keep in contact with anyone, but I really don’t want people to end up where I did in life. I want other people to grow. If you ever want to talk to me about it, I’m here. Under the read more, I’ll talk about it more,and honestly, everrything I say will only be surface level, because delving for too much will leave you with a novel and that’s not really what I’m trying to do.

I first started thinking about killing myself when I was 7. That probably sounds crazy, but my mother was severely abusive and I understood the concept of life and death better than any 7 year old should have. I can talk about how bad it was for me between 6 and 7, but I did on this blog. If you check the #surviving tag, you'll see my hazy memory chronicling it. In short, when I was 7, my bedroom was on the 2nd story. My younger sister asked me why there's a screen on the window. I didn't grasp the concept of a bug screen, but I did at that second think that it was like prison bars and prevented people from killing themselves. Then I considered doing that. That night I couldn't sleep, so I turned on the tv. My mother came in with the belt and kept hitting me for not going to sleep.

I would consider suicide a few more times over the next few years, but I finally tried to when I was 11. I grabbed a knife and stabbed my stomach. I missed every organ. The bleeding stopped after a few hours. I pretended it didn't happen. Nowadays, I lie and say I walked by a knife and it stabbed me.

When I was 13, my abusive mother had died. I never gathered the courage to confront her about my abuse and it fucked with my mental stability. I climbed a ladder, got on the roof and attempted to throw myself off. I didn't break anything, I just rolled. My stepdad came out and asked what was the noise. I lied and said I was getting the basketball off the roof.

I tried to hang myself a few weeks later. I didn't tie the rope well, and I just fell to the floor. I cried that night. The next day, my grandma came to visit and I begged to leave the house. My recovery would finally start.

When I was 15, I tried to bring up the abuse in a family meeting. They took away my ps3 because I was using it a lot. Video games were at that time in my life how I coped with everything. Not having it immediately turned everything and I had to face it. My sister told me that I was lying. It wasn't abuse, it was punishment. And I deserved it. This re instilled my desire to off myself because those words bounced in my head on repeat for years. I never talked about the abuse again. Not until I was 21.

When I was 17, I devised a life plan for myself. You know, every senior had to do that when they're about to graduate after all. My life plan was empty though on paper. In my head, I decided that if nothing ia going on in my life by the time I turn 25, I kill myself.

I didn't quite last that long. After turning 21, I was almost done with college, should get read for university. After all, I took 3 and a half years to finish a 2 year degree. And everything just started to seem bleak. Life just started to halt. The girl I confessed my love to had moved back to Philly. She was dating someone else. I just didn't mention how that made me feel for months. My job was starting to suck, but I realized I needed a full time job, and I wasn't offered it even though I put myself on a list. I finally started uni, and I couldn't keep up in the online class. I has to withdraw and was barred from classes for a year. My life was literally crumbling. To top it all off, my car died and I didn't make enough to buy a car. Everything about 2014 fucking sucked for me.

So, February 2015 happens. In a last ditch effort to better myself, I apply to a comic book store for a job. I do the interview. Two weeks pass and I hear nothing back. February 15, I don't know what set me off, but I'm rushing home. Driving on the highway. I'm still frantic. I pull over on the bridge. I'm trying to cool myself off, and I'm just looking down from this overpass. All the cars are flying by and I'm just thinking "I'm gonna do it I'm gonna do it. Fuck all of this." And I just didn't do it. The thought of my friends and how supportive they were just kinda kept me there. So I didn't. The next day, I got a call offering me the position at the comic shop. After I got off the phone with the manager, I laughed and cried and was joyous yet sad.

Life moved on for me for a bit. Then I had a re-realization of the abuse I went through, I remembered more of it. I couldn't deal. I tried talking with a therapist about it. Then I got baker acted. Because I told her that earlier that day, I was about to veer off the road and into a divider. The impact would have killed me probably. I spent three days in a psych ward on suicide watch. The antidepressants were bad for me. I got every bad side effect, but I kept taking them because I needed help and I knew it. Eventually I stopped, but that drive to better myself didn't end. I still want to go back and get on antidepressants because I know I need them. But I cant afford doctors and medication right now. But I still want other people to get better. I don't want anyone else to feel like they hit a wall like I had so many fucking times. I still need help, but goddamn it I'm gonna try. And all I can do is encourage other people to get better to. Because that's all I feel I can do. So I'm sorry if I ever just sound like I'm bothering people, because I don't want to bother them. I want to be there because those three times I tried to kill myself, I didn't have anybody. The only thing that prevented me from doing it those two other times was because I finally had people who cared about me. I was finally not alone. And let me tell you, failing to off yourself is the worst fucking feeling and it just drives you further into a hole.

So yeah. I'm sorry if I ever seem like a pest, but I just don't want more people to go through what I did. I'm sorry if anyone reading this was ever on the receiving end of me yakking on. Just stay safe out there. If you ever want to talk to me about that stuff, I'm here. I want to be there.

[renfys]

Mental Health Mum: Coming Off My Anti-Depressants

At the beginning of April, I started to come off my medication. My depression had hit a four year low, and my anxiety a four year high. To be honest it was all because of work. That was the root of my issues, and I realised then that my medication was no longer fit for purpose.

I’ve been on Seroxat (the generic name is paroxetine but I’ve always been given the brand for some reason) for about a decade. It was one of a few different medications I’ve tried for my anxiety and depression and at the time it made the difference. I didn’t really notice any side effects, but my anxiety was better and so was my depression. Not markedly so but enough to survive, to get by, without being suicidal or agoraphobic. My social phobia was really bad back then. It took a little while to get into a groove with them and adding Tegretol on as a mood stabilizer a few years later helped. I wasn’t diagnosed with BPD formally until a few years after that even but my GP seemed to think I needed them.

The Tegretol definitely helped with some of my outbursts. I came off that about a year ago because I just didn’t feel like I needed it anymore. The BPD diagnosis still stands, it’s never going away, but the worst of the symptoms have settled or subsided.

Medication Is A Good Thing

I was one of those people who didn’t want to comply with their medication. Because anti-depressants were bad. They changed you. I believed the stigma.

Needing medication for mental health problems is not a bad thing. There is nothing wrong with taking anti-depressants, mood stabilizers, hell, even tranquillisers if you need them. They are not “mind benders”, they do not turn you into zombies (and if they do, you need to either change the dose or change the medication). You may or may not be on them forever. Some are addictive, more aren’t. They save lives, they change lives, they can make the difference.

The first one you try might not work. But it might. What have you got to lose by trying? And what do you have to lose by supporting your friends or family who are taking medication?

The stigma around medication helps no one. And no, medication isn’t going to make everything better, but it can help and sometimes that’s enough. Given the state of mental health care in the UK, it may be your only option while you sit on a long-ass waiting list for counselling, therapy or whatever else you need.

People take medication for headaches, hayfever, diabetes, heart conditions, more and more and more physical symptoms alike. Taking medication for your mind is no different. I take painkillers for my headaches, and beta blockers for my panic attacks. I’m not ashamed of it. And I shouldn’t have to even clarify that point.

Coming Off My Meds

I’ve played with the idea of coming off the Seroxat for a little while. I wasn’t sure I really needed it anymore, let along such a high dose. I’ve had some GPs say I couldn’t have more than 60 and some say I could have 80mg. I hit 60mg pretty early on and stuck with it for most of my time on the medication. What had always put me off was the fact that any time I missed a dose or two (or a few) the withdrawals were a bitch. The headaches come first, then complete physical anxiety attacks, then suicidal ideation.

I wasn’t keen to experience any of that.

But it wasn’t really helping anymore, in fact, it was making my OCD worse. I’m not formally diagnosed with OCD that I know of (you lose track sometimes), but I had mentioned when I first started taking it, that it was making my OCD worse. I noticed on February how bad my eating issue had gotten (I’m a very fussy eater). Any dinner with meat in it was becoming very difficult to eat and impossible to enjoy.

So I needed a change but I had to get off the Seroxat first.

From 60mg to 20mg

The worst of those withdrawals haven’t happened this time around. At least the bit where I end up in a pit of despair. The headaches every time I went down a dose were awful, not migraine bad but enough that I actually asked for a box of 100 of my painkillers instead of the thirty I get from time to time. They passed after a couple of days, but I had to take the prescribed dose of painkillers (1-2 every 4-6 hours when required).

The anxiety was bad too, it’s only the last two or three weeks that I’ve not woken up to a panic attack or in the middle of a panic attack. My GP had already prescribed me a beta-blocker propanolol which works on the physical symptoms of a panic attack. So I’ve been taking one of those most mornings since April.

Coming down to 20mg was pretty easy, things got harder after that. I was going down by 10mg every two weeks; slower than my doctor had suggested actually. When I hit 20mg the anxiety got worse, but that was compounded by work and money issues again. I stuck with 20mg for a while so I go to some job interviews and then tried went down to 10mg.

Ten, Five, Zero

A selfie from May.

I tried going from ten to zero but that was awful. The anxiety was just unlivable. It really affected us all and it just wasn’t fair to my wife and kid. They shouldn’t have to suffer when I am. The propanolol helped but I can only take 40mg of that a da because it lowers your blood pressure and mine is on the low side of normal most of the time so any more would make me dizzy. I’ve got a lower dose tablet now cause some days even the 40mg made me dizzy.

So I went back on the ten for a little while, to get my head straight again before I started snapping the tablets in half and taking 5mg. That went okay actually, same as before. Headaches and panic attacks. I let my mind and body get used to that dose for a bit while dealing with life (work, interviews, toddler).

Now it’s been three days with zero Seroxat. I went from 5mg to 5 mg every other day to none because life is evening out and I feel really, really sick. I was dizzy on the days without Seroxat but not having had a propanolol to cause it. I kept going though cause I was so close and not it’s been three days and I can’t shift the headache but that will pass soon. The dizziness isn’t as bad a sit was, it doesn’t help that I finally caught the stomach bug that is going (my son had it last week).

I’ll stay off it though. People have been saying I shouldn’t be doing this now but I’m sure the worst is past. There’s never going to be a better time than now to get off it. There is no good time to change medication, come off it or start it. You just have to do it, would’ve appreciated a little more support in doing it though. It’s taken me three and a half months to do it.

Different Medication

I won’t be seeking more therapy, counselling or any other services from mental health. I’ve had therapy a couple of times and plenty of counselling. I’ve got as much as I’m ever going to get out of it. I had an OT for a while too. Recently they offered me a mindfulness course but I refused because I didn’t like the woman who offered it to me (she was dismissive and condescending) and I don’t think much of mindfulness.

I don’t know if I’ll try something else though. I don’t feel nearly as bad as I did in March and when I originally thought about coming off then I didn’t think I need them or anything. I’ve talked about it with the GP but right now the beta-blockers are good enough for the physical symptoms for now and we’ll see how things go.

If you have any questions about any of this or about my experience with other medications or my diagnosis please don’t hesitate to get in touch. Leave a comment or use the contact form. I will talk about any of this and help in any way I can.

Links

Mind

Mental Health Resources

Antidepressant Seroxat tops table of drug withdrawal symptoms – The Guardian

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How are you doing?

A lot better. I don’t think I’ve properly talked about exactly what was going on but basically I’d been on two antidepressants for a long time (Wellbutrin for 3 months and Prozac for 2 months) but they weren’t doing as much for me as I needed them to and I was still feeling pretty depressed. So my doctor switched me to Trintellix but she took me off of Wellbutrin and Prozac right away and I didn’t slowly come off of it like you’re supposed to with most antidepressants but especially Prozac. My therapist told me Prozac is one of the ones that doctors are supposed to require you to come off of slowly because the withdrawal can be really bad. And for me, someone who experiences bad withdrawal on any antidepressant, it was really really REALLY bad. Suddenly these drugs I’d had in my body for months were suddenly gone and it was a total shock to my system. 

But it’s been about three weeks now and I’m finally starting to feel better. My body is used to being off of those two drugs and on a new one, though I’ve been having a few negative side effects from it so I might have to change again. I’m still not 100% and I think it’ll probably take some more time for these new meds to properly start working with me since I had such a bad withdrawal period but things are starting to look up. 

I also just wanna say that I know I made some pretty scary posts over the last month but please don’t worry too much. I’ve been talking to my therapist about it and she’s aware of my situation and knows just how bad I’d gotten. And I have an appointment with my doctor next Friday and I’ll be mentioning everything to her and make sure she’s aware of what’s been going on. So I’m getting the help I need.