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mechanical_nocturne) wrote2012-01-01 12:02 am
mechanical_nocturne) wrote2012-01-01 12:02 am
End/beginning of the year post
I've been looking back on 2011 and thinking about how unstable it was for me. I had no idea where I would be at the end of the year, or what I would be doing. I was still an undergraduate with my boyfriend in our apartment at the beginning of the year. We broke up pretty early on--it was evident we were better off as friends, and living together was not awkward afterward.
I remember graduation, and how I cried because I knew dad was not proud of my accomplishments there. I made arrangements to go to Canada and work for a year while I fixed up some plan for myself. One email signaling that I'd been accepted to med school changed everything, and I found myself in Houston.
Houston was more or less as foreign to me as Austin had been when I first arrived. The Houston zoo is literally right beside my medical school, and I haven't been there yet. The metrorail train system takes me to school and back home. It took me a while to break out of my apartment cave to ride the train downtown to the cathedral for mass. If you haven't guessed yet, medical school is really time consuming. I shouldn't have been surprised; it's not advertised as anything other than that. It's certainly much harder than undergrad, but again that's not a surprise.
What was a surprise to me was how much my antidepressants were holding me back. I never wanted to correlate the intense fatigue I started feeling late 2008 with the fact that I had started taking an SSRI. The antidepressants WORKED. For once, I could talk in front of a class and not worry about having a nervous breakdown. Social interaction didn't bother me as much. My rage/suicidal episodes were practically eliminated.
They relaxed me. I loved it. I started sleeping more. A lot more. It was pointed out to me as 2009 went on how much I napped. By the time fall 2009 came on, I was sleeping in class (something I had never done before except on a very rare occasion). By the time 2010 was getting over with, I was sleeping through classes in my dorm on a pretty regular basis. I also noticed that my concentration and memory were dulled. I didn't pick things up like I did earlier in college. I could skim something unfamiliar once or twice and have it--I think I got a 98% or something in genetics because of that. Instead, I found myself reading the same paragraph five times, then having to stop and wonder what subject I was working on. (Interestingly, 44% of people on Effexor report amnesia as a symptom. Memory was definitely an issue for me.)
But I could still manage. Sure, my grades fell, and it bothered me. I went from straight A's in subjects like organic chemistry, calculus III, and physics (and more, all in the same semester) to C's and B's the following semester. I was still making it, despite sleeping 18 hours a day; despite sometimes only waking up to eat, and then going back to sleep for a day or two.
Yeah, that schedule somehow worked in undergrad. Not so much in med school.
I was reluctant to blame my antidepressants because I was too afraid of my chemical imbalance on its own, and too afraid that nothing could contain it like my current SSRIs did. But in the middle of this semester at medical school, I realized that I had to do something.
I couldn't change meds in the middle of the semester. Not when the result is more or less unpredictable. So I fought my fatigue until this Christmas break, and then went to the doctor to make a change. I have to say...it was a good call on my part to wait to switch meds.
When I read a book containing heroin/substance-of-your-choice addicts going through withdrawal, I had little pity for them. I couldn't really sympathize with them, because I had no idea what they were going through. It is difficult for me to describe Effexor withdrawal to anyone that has not gone through something like that. I had stepped the doses down, and eventually wasn't taking any. I was also taking my new meds, and hoping that they would sort of pick up for the Effexor. God, was I wrong.
First are the "brain zaps" you will hear people going through this complain of. It literally feels like your neurons have disconnected from one another, curled up into the fetal position in the darkness of your tissues, and started firing completely at random. It actually does feel like little painless zaps of electricity running up your arm, or neck, or in your head.
While that is going on in the background, the migraines come. They are constant fading in and out if you so much as dare to look at anything but the back of your eyelids. And if you can handle the headache and look, then be prepared for the nausea. Those two are generally paired, and pretty common. Once they get going, only sleep will banish them.
Once you lie down in a quiet, dark place, the anxiety hits. Literally ANYTHING your brain can come up with to freak you out with, it will. Every hideously depressing scenario, every existential, philosophical worry will be projected into your head. But eventually even terribleness gets repetitive, and you somehow fall asleep.
Nightmares are common with people going through Effexor withdrawal, and are a risk for anyone when dealing with SSRIs in general. It's not really surprising, given the mental environment you were in just before falling asleep. You just get to live them now, rather than think about your fears.
And when you wake up, the cycle begins again about ten minutes after you're out of bed attempting to get SOMETHING done that day. I was extremely tempted to get back on the Effexor just to make the withdrawal go away. I used my ten minutes of non-migraine time to research the withdrawal, and found that it is usually treated with a few doses of Prozac. Prozac apparently has a similar enough mechanism to Effexor that the body will be happy enough with that and stop freaking out. Unlike Effexor, Prozac has a very long half-life and drops out of your system over the course of a few weeks--meaning little to no withdrawal.
Lucky me, my mom happens to take it. I asked her permission, and took one. The next day I was perfectly fine. Well, not perfectly. I've caught my dad's head cold; however, it should say something that even with the head cold I feel about a hundred times better than I did during withdrawal. I mentioned to the doctor that I had done this, and they seemed to think it was a fine idea. (It's funny how much more they listen to your opinion when you're in medical school. I have noticed this when discussing things with my vet as well.)
Speaking of which, I am still cringing at my grades from this first semester of med school. But, despite the hellish withdrawal period, I don't have the fatigue I did! Maybe, just maybe, I can get back to my all-A (or high B?) self.
Is it weird that I've considered going into psychiatry? I mean, on one hand maybe it would be encouraging for one neuroatypical person to see another neuroatypical person being successful at both controlling their problem and in the working world? On the other hand, I do have bad days (just like neurotypical psychiatrists have bad days, I'm sure), and I'd feel weirdly hypocritical. Just like I would never go into dermatology; I have a terrible complexion.
Before I start worrying about any of that, I need to get through 2012. At the least, it's starting off quite differently than 2011.
I remember graduation, and how I cried because I knew dad was not proud of my accomplishments there. I made arrangements to go to Canada and work for a year while I fixed up some plan for myself. One email signaling that I'd been accepted to med school changed everything, and I found myself in Houston.
Houston was more or less as foreign to me as Austin had been when I first arrived. The Houston zoo is literally right beside my medical school, and I haven't been there yet. The metrorail train system takes me to school and back home. It took me a while to break out of my apartment cave to ride the train downtown to the cathedral for mass. If you haven't guessed yet, medical school is really time consuming. I shouldn't have been surprised; it's not advertised as anything other than that. It's certainly much harder than undergrad, but again that's not a surprise.
What was a surprise to me was how much my antidepressants were holding me back. I never wanted to correlate the intense fatigue I started feeling late 2008 with the fact that I had started taking an SSRI. The antidepressants WORKED. For once, I could talk in front of a class and not worry about having a nervous breakdown. Social interaction didn't bother me as much. My rage/suicidal episodes were practically eliminated.
They relaxed me. I loved it. I started sleeping more. A lot more. It was pointed out to me as 2009 went on how much I napped. By the time fall 2009 came on, I was sleeping in class (something I had never done before except on a very rare occasion). By the time 2010 was getting over with, I was sleeping through classes in my dorm on a pretty regular basis. I also noticed that my concentration and memory were dulled. I didn't pick things up like I did earlier in college. I could skim something unfamiliar once or twice and have it--I think I got a 98% or something in genetics because of that. Instead, I found myself reading the same paragraph five times, then having to stop and wonder what subject I was working on. (Interestingly, 44% of people on Effexor report amnesia as a symptom. Memory was definitely an issue for me.)
But I could still manage. Sure, my grades fell, and it bothered me. I went from straight A's in subjects like organic chemistry, calculus III, and physics (and more, all in the same semester) to C's and B's the following semester. I was still making it, despite sleeping 18 hours a day; despite sometimes only waking up to eat, and then going back to sleep for a day or two.
Yeah, that schedule somehow worked in undergrad. Not so much in med school.
I was reluctant to blame my antidepressants because I was too afraid of my chemical imbalance on its own, and too afraid that nothing could contain it like my current SSRIs did. But in the middle of this semester at medical school, I realized that I had to do something.
I couldn't change meds in the middle of the semester. Not when the result is more or less unpredictable. So I fought my fatigue until this Christmas break, and then went to the doctor to make a change. I have to say...it was a good call on my part to wait to switch meds.
When I read a book containing heroin/substance-of-your-choice addicts going through withdrawal, I had little pity for them. I couldn't really sympathize with them, because I had no idea what they were going through. It is difficult for me to describe Effexor withdrawal to anyone that has not gone through something like that. I had stepped the doses down, and eventually wasn't taking any. I was also taking my new meds, and hoping that they would sort of pick up for the Effexor. God, was I wrong.
First are the "brain zaps" you will hear people going through this complain of. It literally feels like your neurons have disconnected from one another, curled up into the fetal position in the darkness of your tissues, and started firing completely at random. It actually does feel like little painless zaps of electricity running up your arm, or neck, or in your head.
While that is going on in the background, the migraines come. They are constant fading in and out if you so much as dare to look at anything but the back of your eyelids. And if you can handle the headache and look, then be prepared for the nausea. Those two are generally paired, and pretty common. Once they get going, only sleep will banish them.
Once you lie down in a quiet, dark place, the anxiety hits. Literally ANYTHING your brain can come up with to freak you out with, it will. Every hideously depressing scenario, every existential, philosophical worry will be projected into your head. But eventually even terribleness gets repetitive, and you somehow fall asleep.
Nightmares are common with people going through Effexor withdrawal, and are a risk for anyone when dealing with SSRIs in general. It's not really surprising, given the mental environment you were in just before falling asleep. You just get to live them now, rather than think about your fears.
And when you wake up, the cycle begins again about ten minutes after you're out of bed attempting to get SOMETHING done that day. I was extremely tempted to get back on the Effexor just to make the withdrawal go away. I used my ten minutes of non-migraine time to research the withdrawal, and found that it is usually treated with a few doses of Prozac. Prozac apparently has a similar enough mechanism to Effexor that the body will be happy enough with that and stop freaking out. Unlike Effexor, Prozac has a very long half-life and drops out of your system over the course of a few weeks--meaning little to no withdrawal.
Lucky me, my mom happens to take it. I asked her permission, and took one. The next day I was perfectly fine. Well, not perfectly. I've caught my dad's head cold; however, it should say something that even with the head cold I feel about a hundred times better than I did during withdrawal. I mentioned to the doctor that I had done this, and they seemed to think it was a fine idea. (It's funny how much more they listen to your opinion when you're in medical school. I have noticed this when discussing things with my vet as well.)
Speaking of which, I am still cringing at my grades from this first semester of med school. But, despite the hellish withdrawal period, I don't have the fatigue I did! Maybe, just maybe, I can get back to my all-A (or high B?) self.
Is it weird that I've considered going into psychiatry? I mean, on one hand maybe it would be encouraging for one neuroatypical person to see another neuroatypical person being successful at both controlling their problem and in the working world? On the other hand, I do have bad days (just like neurotypical psychiatrists have bad days, I'm sure), and I'd feel weirdly hypocritical. Just like I would never go into dermatology; I have a terrible complexion.
Before I start worrying about any of that, I need to get through 2012. At the least, it's starting off quite differently than 2011.
no subject
I'm glad you figured out what was going on and you're taking steps to fix it, though. <3
no subject
Yes, it seems sooo much better. Weird to have roughly three years of mental floatyplace.
no subject
Now if I could just figure out what the hell I want to do with graduate school.
no subject
As for grad school, judging by my brief foray into looking at them/trying to find the right PI and research group, it is so hard if you don't have something very specific in mind. And since you love nearly ALL THE THINGS...yeah, pain. XD I'll let you know if I see anything crazy awesome.
no subject
no subject
I stopped liking how it made me feel so I switched to Wellbutrin with GP's guidance and HEH HEH OH LORD. Mind zaps can kiss my ass. I was used to the odd involuntary jolts that went along with it (I have a hereditary benign muscle tremor thing) but the sensation of neuron static can eff right off.
Fortunately for me, I had an awesome bunch of family members who were very open about their own withdrawal issues after substance abuse. Hell--some of them I can remember their recovery process. They understood what I was on about, they were supportive, didn't call me a wuss, or call me weak, or say I was faking. It was awesome.
As for neuro-atypical counselors, my ADHD specialist has it himself. So it's not that odd to me. :)
no subject
I'm currently on Wellbutrin and liking it, though I've had odd headaches lately and I'm not sure if they're associated with that or merely vestiges of my head cold. XD It'll take some time to see if I'm settled in and happy with it.
It's good to know that everyone seems pretty cool with neuroatypical councelling. XD We'll see how my psychology rounds go in two years.