I take Lexapro, 10 milligrams a day. At least, when I remember to take it or I haven't run out. And I'd almost give my right arm to get off this stuff. Honestly, I've forgotten what it is to feel much of anything anymore.
I've been taking Lexapro for about two years. My experience with SSRIs started in January 2003 after a friend of mine told me that I hadn't been myself lately, and that I should consider anti-depressants. I was opposed to the idea, especially since I once told Virginia that "popping little blue-bippies" wasn't really solving the problem. In retrospect, I probably could have used a Valium then.
Jeff told me he had some leftover Celexa if I ever thought about it. A few weeks later, after a particularly dismal date, I called Jeff to request his prescription bottle. He was out of town, but he told me where to find the key to his apartment and where the two-week supply were located.
The Celexa was apparently enough to convince me that maybe there was something to the whole pharmaceutical thing.
And then along came the ex. We moved in together in May of 2003, and by September, I caught him cheating. Even after he apologized profusely and swore he'd never do it again, I caught him again a few weeks later, virtually red-handed. He denied it vehemently. And I think I probably came dangerously close to a good old-fashioned Southern come-apart over the next few weeks.
I stalked him after work. I hacked his email account. I stuck as close to his side as possible. I rummaged through the incoming calls in his cell phone and cross-referenced them against numbers I found in his email. The boy was so totally busted. But still he denied it. And I felt like the prick for violating his privacy.
I wasn't sleeping and I was living every moment in anxiety. So I saw my doctor and explained that I thought I was depressed. The ex actually commended my actions, spouting forth the wonders that Lexapro had worked for him. I told the doctor how I had taken Celexa and it was a tremendous help. He told me that Celexa wouldn't have helped unless I needed it, and he wrote me out a prescription of 20mg of Lexapro. I picked up a bottle of water and my prescription at the drug store, and I popped one before I was even out of the store.
A couple days later, in the midst of the yawns and the swimmy-headed feeling, I decided that the motherfucker could do whatever he wanted to. In the middle of an argument, he asked me if I was angry, and I told him that I was on 20 milligrams of Lexapro a day; I couldn't feel a thing if I wanted to.
We broke up in January and I started seeing a therapist.
The eight sessions, paid for by the employee assistance program at work, was enough to get me through the break-up, and oddly enough, put me back into the relationship with a renewed frame of mind. We broke up in May again, and continued to live together until I moved to Memphis last October.
Lexi might have been my saving grace until I got to Memphis. Never, ever live with your ex after you break up. When it's over, pack your bags and get the hell out.
When I got to Memphis, I was ready to get off Lexi. I started to step off her several times but the side effects are loopy enough to make you want to stay on it. My doctor here prescribed me 10 mg to help me step down.
That was a year ago. When I start getting pissy, Hotass asks if I've taken a pill. It's usually near the end of the month when I start spacing the pills out to conserve them to see if once again I can get off the Lexi Train. First, the general pissiness, the snapping at people, the foul attitude, and then the impatience and anger, and the dizzy spells, and then the headaches and the nausea and the feeling that you're falling down, down, down in a burning ring of fire. And by that point, I'm jones'ing so bad for a lexapro, I'd kill a man or the slow pharmacy tech behind the counter at Walgreen's.
Of course, I feel good when I'm on my meds. I've been in the best mood since I started taking her regularly. I'm patient. I'm optimistic. I'm having a good time, but I feel like I shut down any feelings once they start up. In Vegas, I tried again to step off, but by the time the plane landed I was craving escitalopram oxalate. But then again, I'm not sure I remember or like what I felt like before I started the Lexapro.
I worry that Lexi is killing my sex drive. Sometimes, wind never blows into the sails when I think it should. It happens when I need it, but it's almost like the Mini-me has stopped thinking for himself. That, for once, the big head has started thinking for the little head.
And I worry that Lexi is making me fat. I've started a gradual weight gain since I started taking Lexapro, but it's hard to tell if I can attribute it to my laziness, my slowing metabolism, or Lexi.
And I worry that Lexi is preventing me from feeling, or has somehow caused me to think that any feeling whatsoever is a bad thing. That it's better to just be than it is to feel. And sometimes faking the emotion is easier than feeling it.
