Two hundred twenty six days ago, my mind snapped.
I am pushing 40, and have been diagnosed with severe depression and general anxiety for years.
The short version of that night is I got an email that turned something I was excited and proud of into a misunderstanding. In a manner of minutes, my world toppled.
So I binged. Drank like a fish and was almost incoherent the rest of the night.
The next day, no hangover, just all the anxiety from my head was gone. It was in my stomach. Gnawing nausea that wouldn't go away unless I was tired.
A week later, no drinking at all, that same feeling. Every day. Lay in bed, physically crippled by a nausea that no Ginger, Gravol, or even Zofran (Ondansetron) would fight.
My GP prescribed I titrate up clonazepam. At 3 mg twice per day, the physical anxiety, that nausea was gone. But as it disappeared, the depression got worse.
I hated it. I hated being on a benzo. So I titrated down with my GP's help. The anxiety nausea came back. With the depression I just was in constant mood swings. I punched a hole in the wall. I saw a few therapists during this, even trying ART (accelerated resolution therapy) to start a positive move forward because it had worked in the past.
But nothing helped. I discovered that drinking enough made it manageable, but the closest I had been to peace since September 9th was clonazepam. I ended up going to the emergency ward at a hospital. So I could hopefully see a psychiatrist eventually. 11 hours sitting in various chairs before I got a room. Two hours till I saw the psychiatrist. Was told about a bunch of programs, and given a prescription for clonazepam, titrating back up.
Started feeling more "normal" as I got to 3mg twice a day. Tried the highest recommended program they had, which has you seeing a psychiatrist and social worker, being diagnosed, and discharged.
Their diagnosis? Rehab. Clonazepam dependence and alcohol addiction. I told them what I was like without clonazepam. Nope, need rehab. I told them I had been completely sober for over a month. Need rehab. That's it. Diagnosis filed, sent packing with a referral to a rehab clinic.
I told my doctor and he thought it was complete BS. That they heard I was on a benzo and a binge was involved in the "snap." But it didn't matter. My medical record now says I have dependence on both.
The depression kept getting worse, so I suggested to my GP switching antidepressants (I was on duloxetine). He suggested tapering off that, and onto Effexor XR.
The depression is almost unmanageable. I'll lay in bed and cry over literally nothing for hours until I tire myself out. I've been on the standard dose for about a week. Apparently Effexor XR can take 4-8 weeks to feel effects.
So now instead of laying in bed with gnawing anxiety nausea, I lay in bed crying or doing semi-distracting things like games or books to pass the time until I'm tired enough to sleep.
I have 3-7 weeks to look forward to, just to see if this med does anything. Every day is hell, and I haven't cried this much since my mom died. The anhedonia is pretty much insurmountable.
Every night I brush my teeth, look in the mirror, and think "survived another day." But that's all it's been. Survival. One day at a time, the light at the end of the tunnel seeming further away. Then I have a benzo to wean off, which people say is up there with heroine for withdrawal. Yay.
Tonight it'll be 227 days since my brain snapped. Woohoo.