You know those days where you just cry all the time? Or is that just me? I had a day, a few days actually, where I cried a lot. On this particular day, I was a mess because of tiny feet. I was buying my nephew’s PE kit for when he starts school in September and they didn’t do his size in plimsoles. Then I realised that this sweet little boy is going to school and his feet are so tiny and I just started crying and that set the tone for the day. I didn’t realise tiny feet could have such an effect on me but I was having major withdrawal symptoms from sertraline at the time so that might explain it. The day I took my last tablet, I went to the pharmacy to collect the next months worth only to be told it hadn’t been requested so I’d have to wait (their fuck up, not mine).
By day 4, I was struggling with a fuzzy head. The type you get when you wake up with a horrible hangover. And I thought that bad enough but the morning of day 5 came and I felt like little gremlins had crawled inside my head had made themselves at home on balls of that really rough stuffing you find in cushions. They were chattering away, creating chaos. I felt sick and I was sweating profusely. Now, granted, it was fucking hot but the sweating I was experiencing was wildly disproportionate. I felt disgusting. My fingers were twitching and every so often it felt like a spider was crawling it’s way up my spine, weaving its way though each of the vertebrae and into my head through the base of my skull. Probably to join it’s little gremlin buddies. Bastards.
My stomach cramped. *It’s been a while since I gave you any graphic details – refer to ‘please don’t leave me’ for the story about the time an infected insect bite on my arse exploded during a panic attack – so here’s your warning*. During a brief period of lucidity I decided to take the dog for a walk to try and ease the cramping. I will spare some details but honestly, if my house was another 50 yards down the road I’d have had a Bridesmaids moment in the street. The poor dog couldn’t keep up me as I power walked, butt clenched, desperately trying to get home in time. Who knew a fucking antidepressant could do such a thing to your digestive system. Absolutely horrendous.
I soon realised the walk was a bad choice. I was so dizzy. My head pounded (dehydration from all the crying, sweating and other stuff no doubt). I was confused and just felt weird. I couldn’t sleep that night so I stayed up binge watching something on Netflix about a serial killer. My sleep is still shit now. Honestly, throughout the whole experience I was so terrified that all my hard work was going to be completely undone by missing my tablets. I thought I was going to end up back at the beginning, depressed and suicidal. Every time I cry, every time I feel sad or anxious, every morning that I wake up feeling empty, the fear of relapse creeps in. Luckily I was able to get an emergency prescription and I’m feeling much better now.
So that’s the story of my withdrawal symptoms. I hope it made you laugh in parts but also highlights the importance of taking your medication as prescribed. This was completely accidental but I learnt a valuable lesson. Please keep yourself safe and keep yourself well and always seek your doctors advice about taking and stopping medication. Even if it’s just so you don’t end up nearly shitting yourself in the street.
Look after your brain. Bella xx
Samaritans: 116 123 (24/7)
Shout: Text SHOUT 85258 (24/7)
999 if you’re in crisis and cannot keep yourself safe