Though I disappeared for an entire summer, I am still here and still proverbially kicking. I wanted to return much earlier than today, but life never goes quite the way one would like, so I'll count my blessings and kiss my elbow.
I am writing this in the haze of a serious Paxil withdrawal. Up until a few days ago, I had no idea that this even existed, but after reading a comment on QuitPaxil.org comparing said withdrawal to the dead baby hallucination from Trainspotting and experiencing my own sort of loonier off drugs than on craziness, I'm a believer.
It's funny though because the whole reason Dr. S. decided to take me off of Paxil is that it seemed to be doing me more harm than good. Don't get me wrong - Paxil is great for depression. But when mixed with the disposition of mostly manic bipolar, it does nothing but make me irritable and mean and unable to civily end a fight, much to Mr. Jones' frustration.
After Dr. S. explained the way in which I needed to wean myself from the drug (cut my current 20 mg pills in half and take 10 mg for 21 days, then cut in half again and take 5 mgs for 21 days, then nothing), he asked me twice if I knew how to get a hold of him. I didn't understand why the seeming urgency - I mean, I've switched meds a bunch of times before with little or no trouble.
As with most things in my life, I guess I didn't realize what I was in for.
I just went outside to have a cigarette, and I'm paranoid as hell. The outfit I thought was cute this morning is making me feel like a hooker. I know that everyone isn't looking at me and thinking horrible things, but it certainly feels like it.
Along with being strangely emotional for no good reason, I started off my withdrawal with what I can only describe as eye spins. Imagine something like this, but coming out of your eyes and projecting on to absolutely everything you see. Fun, right?
I'll update more tomorrow with how I'm feeling, but I haven't made it through week one yet, so wish me luck.
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