Two Birds

The first bird seemed dead or near death. She sat frozen after flying into the doors of my high school. I knew how she felt. I was like a zombie back then, my body filled with what my mind wouldn’t accept – grief, anger, and loneliness. It drained me. I shed weight and light until I was a shadow. 

I picked up the bird and moved it toward a tree, so at least she could die in peace. She flew out of my hands, a shock of life. I clung to that moment through the rest of high school and well into college. I used it as evidence that God was working in my life as I sunk deeper and deeper into my faith. I didn’t know that was death, too. To fit into Christianity, I was bleeding my true self away, wearing the mask of a freed, spirit-filled believer. I thought this was flying, but I had just traded one death for another.

———-

The second bird was still fighting. Washing on the beach shore, she was battered by the waves and trying not to drown. I knew how she felt. Years after high school, I was still fighting, too. I fought the grief of my past and persistent doubts about everything I believed. I felt everything but compassion for myself. Anxiety electrified me, even though most days, I trained myself to ignore just how deep it went. 

I picked up the bird and moved it far up the shore. There was no resurrection this time, no eruption of flight. I’m sure she died there, but at least I gave her a quiet place where she didn’t need to fight. I realize now that that’s all I ever needed. I didn’t need prayers or church or the Bible. I didn’t need promises of healing or strange hands on me casting out demons. They never let me rest. 

I thought freedom could only be found in flight, but maybe, it’s just a quiet place where I can let go.

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Book Review: Pure by Linda Kay Klein

*content warning: general descriptions of trauma and anxiety*

I read this book in two days. I couldn’t put it down. What’s so engaging about it is that the author is intimately linked to her subject. Born and raised into purity culture, she suffered the same shame and traumas that the women she interviews did. She even grew up with some of them and experienced the exact same messaging. I don’t know if I’ve read a book of this kind before where the author is so much a part of it.

I’m thinking about this book at a strange time in my life. After losing my dog Yoshi, one of the great loves of my life, it was like the ground beneath me shifted. Things I had buried for years and that have been knocking on the door for months refused to be ignored a second longer. I’ve finally had to acknowledge that I do not feel safe in my own body. I’ve had to acknowledge that my very first memory – a strange, shrouded memory of some kind of physical trauma –  is still haunting me. It guides my sexuality, my anxiety, and how I feel in my own skin.

The extent to which this has affected my experience with purity culture isn’t clear. The big thing I’ve been thinking about is my first serious relationship back in high school. I was physically anxious constantly. I analyzed every little physical thing, feeling both intrigued and terrified. Because of purity culture, I believed that the warning signals going off were from God. If my boyfriend touched my leg or I stroked his hand, trigging a flight response in me, I thought it was God telling me what we were doing was wrong. Now, I know that isn’t the case. Because purity culture saw repressed sexuality as a virtue, it allowed me to ignore signs that something else was wrong for a very long time.

This book also made me feel very relieved. I’m not the only one who feels confusion and anger. Even with deconstruction and transformed beliefs, the women in “Pure” still struggle with the messages engrained at an impressionable age. In my head, I believe that “purity” is a false construct, but in my body and heart, there’s a battle going on. With me, there’s an added layer – that early physical trauma – that complicates things.

Basically, purity culture isn’t the end-all-be-all for my array of issues, but it played a strong supporting role. At certain times in my life, it played a starring role. I recommend “Pure” for anyone who needs to feel that they aren’t alone in dealing with the fallout from purity culture, and for anyone who wants to understand what purity culture does to people.

Purity culture isn’t a relic of the past. It’s alive and well in many communities, and I anticipate a strong backlash from the mainstream church in response to people telling their stories. That’s usually what ends up happening when the church gets called out. Thankfully, there are churches and spiritual communities that are different and willing to listen. They will also need to be vocal. It’s time for a change.

Day Eight On 75mg

Oh boy, has this been a rough week. I don’t even want to reflect on it. Let’s just say it’s taken every ounce of will power to not explode like a balloon of puke and pain.

It’s every day. Pretty much all day in varying degrees. Again, mornings are the worst. I dread them so much, especially since I wake up feeling great. Then I have to take my pill, eat something, drink my ginger tea, and wait for the nausea and crushing head pain to start. It always does, and then I lie down in a fetal position for a few hours until it passes and I can start writing.

A few hours more and then the head pain gets really bad again. I think of it as a giant fist trying to open inside my head, but there isn’t enough room, so it’s squeezing against the inside of my skull. Tylenol doesn’t really do anything about that kind of pressure.

Haven’t been able to focus on anything for very long. Haven’t touched my book this week. Barely cleaned or cooked or exercised. Barely think in complete sentences.

Down to 75mg of Effexor

Well, I finally went down to one pill a day. I was happy about it, but also not so happy, because I knew I was willingly returning to withdrawal symptoms. They started pretty much right away that first day – a crushing, squeezing pain at the back of my head, headaches, joint pain, irritability, fatigue. It’s the fourth day now on 75mg, and I pretty much know that I’m going to be nauseated in the morning, so I head it off with ginger tea and lying down with my eyes closed until the wave passes.

The rest of the days haven’t been too bad. I even made dinner on Monday and key lime pie bars yesterday. They’re pretty much the only thing I want to eat. Well, that and ramen noodles. So I’ve mostly been eating that. Based on how I feel in the evenings, Chris is going to need to be taking of dinners this week.

I got a new job writing articles for a lifestyle magazine with a human rights focus. It pays really well and it’s right up my alley. This week, I’m doing human rights movies, LGBT movies, and human rights books published in 2018.  I don’t have linking info on the magazine yet, hopefully I’ll find that out soon.

Aaand that’s all I have the energy to do right now. Here are some pictures.

Key lime pie bar, but with orange zest added, and orange juice+lemon juice instead of lime juice

Going Into Week 4 On 150mg

This past week (the 3rd week) was the hardest I’ve had on the lower dose of Effexor. The first half was especially rough beginning on Wednesday the 29th. The nausea in the morning was so bad I couldn’t move, just lie on the floor. My eyes felt glued shut, like my body was forcing them to stay closed to survive. I started worrying that I might be pregnant, but that was an irrational fear that I refused to entertain. The nausea returned for a few more mornings, though it I headed it off by having a cup of ginger tea right away in the morning with breakfast. It helped, and I haven’t had nausea for the past few days.

I started to feel emotional symptoms, too. On Thursday, I cried in the morning about a dream and listened to “Gravity” by Sara Bareilles. The day got better after I Facetimed with my friend while her daughter took a nap. She’s the one who gave me the succulent in the photo above.

Those were the two things of note this past week. I experienced a lot of frustration and confusion about why the symptoms seemed to be getting worse, not better, but from what I’ve read online, that can happen. It’s all just part of the body adjusting. I’ve also been having a little nighttime anxiety about finances and not having nearly as much work as I would like. I’m looking for new gigs every day, but payments are low and a lot of the work isn’t relevant to my specialties. My plan is to work on what I have as efficiently as I can and then use the spare time to hunt for jobs,  work on short stories to submit to publications, and of course, work on my novel.

I’m planning on sticking to the two pills a day until September 12 and seeing how I feel.

Going Into Week 3

Tomorrow, I will have just ended two weeks on a lower dose of Effexor, and my patience is thinning. Looking at the positives is important – I only have to take Tylenol about once a day and I haven’t been throwing up in the mornings anymore. This weekend, I was at a social event for 4 1/2 hours and didn’t pass out or feel the need to bite anyone’s head off. Progress!

This week is also significantly cooler, I can actually feel some lacy edges of autumn in the breeze, and that really improves my mood. I’m still sleeping a lot and don’t have much of an appetite. Whenever I feel the tiniest bit of motivation for work, I try to churn out as much as possible, because after an hour, I want nothing to do with writing or thinking of any kind. Today, I have done some very half-hearted research for a new cookbook introduction and then fell asleep on the couch for two hours.

As for daily chores like cleaning and cooking, don’t even. I’ve made exactly two dishes these past two weeks – nectarine shortcakes and a salsa, which I’ve turned into nachos for my breakfast and dinner the past two days. I’m also very into this new peach tea I got from Plum Deluxe, an Oregon-based loose tea company. They have a vanilla latte black tea I want to get once it gets colder.

The withdrawal could be much worse. From reading online, some people experience horrendous symptoms after going down 75 milligrams. I am a little frustrated with my doctor for not talking about the withdrawal. If I hadn’t known about it and done my own research, I would have had no idea what to expect and been a lot more emotional. That seems to be the experience of a lot of people wanting to taper down.

My goals this week are to eat more vegetables, continue eating very little sugar, and get more exercise.

 

 

First Week On A Lower Effexor Dose

I just finished my first week on 150 grams of Effexor instead of 225 grams. How did it go? It was a mixed bag.

Day 1

To ease myself in, I took half a pill in the afternoon and the other half at night. Withdrawal symptoms included lightheadedness and irritability. I couldn’t sleep that night and experienced surges of anxiety about nothing. I felt really twitchy and when I did get to sleep, I kept walking up.

Day 2

Despite a rough night, I woke up feeling pretty good. Ate leftover pasta for breakfast, took my pill, and wrote. I started to feel more tired than usual, so I took a nap. I usually try to nap about two hours after waking up. If I can’t fall asleep, I just don’t take a nap that day. Today, I fell asleep pretty much right away. Had some fatigue the rest of the day and found it difficult to focus on anything.

Day 3

SO MUCH FATIGUE. Felt like a zombie all day, took forever to write just a few hundred words. I’m supposed to exercise to combat the withdrawal, so I managed to clomp about a mile with the dog. That night I had a lot of muscle and joint pain, especially in my head and neck.

Day 4

Nausea strikes! I threw up in the morning and lay on the couch. I drank a lot of water. Couldn’t figure out what to eat. Didn’t feel like eating at all the rest of the day, but I made myself.

Day 5

Saturday! Beach day! Yoshi was super obnoxious on the drive and I felt my patience wearing thinner than usual. Started getting headache and experiencing nausea. Couldn’t really focus, so I just sat on the beach and didn’t think about anything. Took a short nap and walked with Yoshi for a little bit.

Day 6

That’s today. I threw up again and I can feel a headache coming on just above my right eye, like a spreading sunspot. Thinking about going back to bed after I finish this blog. I wrote two work things already, so it wasn’t an unproductive morning. Going to see a movie this afternoon.

OVERALL THOUGHTS: Withdrawal wasn’t too bad this week. I don’t like the fatigue part, because that makes working out SO DIFFICULT. Even just walking feels like my limbs are full of sandbags. Nausea is my least favorite symptom. I haven’t had any weird emotional symptoms yet besides some anxiety, racing thoughts, etc, at night. No weeping spells, which is good. This next week I’m sticking to my current 150g; I don’t want to taper down more until the withdrawal symptoms are completely gone.

What I’ll do differently: I’ve noticed that I’m really sensitive to sugar right now. As in, I’ll have one sugary thing and immediately start getting a headache. Will be avoiding sugar this week. Also making it a goal to get more exercise. Luckily it looks like it will be a cooler week.

Why I’m Phasing Out My Antidepressants

So, I’m finally going to do it. I’m going to talk to my doctor about tapering down my medication. I’ve been on one antidepressant or another for 11 years. For the last five or so, I’ve been on 225 grams of Effexor. It’s time to taper them down.

Why? For one, I’m just tired of having to take a pill three times a day. 225 grams is also a really high dose, and I don’t need it. I’m not in a stressful environment, I have a strong support system, and I’m an expert at self-care. Also, while Effexor doesn’t have obvious side effects like headaches or brain zaps, I do believe it has a numbing effect on my emotions and sexual drive. I’m trying to connect to my emotions more since I’ve been seeing my spiritual director, and I just feel like the medication is blocking some channels.

I’ve been reading Lost Connections by Johann Hari and it’s blowing my mind. I had no idea how relatively ineffective antidepressants are when it comes to treating depression and anxiety. I’m not saying they’re worthless, they’re just not as effective as Big Pharma would have us believe, and there are other treatments that could be as effective or more effective that aren’t getting researched. It was also really troubling to learn that pharmaceutical companies aren’t required to release all the information they have on their pills, so they only release the most positive. The studies are also known to frequently be biased and funded by the company itself. I feel like I shouldn’t be so surprised. Money drives everything and pharmaceutical companies stand to make billions by hawking their drugs.

It’s time for me to taper down or stop the medication completely. I’m much less worried than I was before, because now I’m not sure how much the drug by itself is responsible for my better mental health. I think back to the worst depression relapses and they all happened in really chaotic times : being in, then ending an emotionally-draining relationship/feeling isolated at a high school where I didn’t fit in/being at a college where I didn’t fit in with very few friends/engaging in a really destructive spiritual environment/switching to a radically-different college/unearthing childhood trauma. Of course I reacted the way I did and a pill wasn’t going to fix everything, even as my doctor raised the dose. Now, I don’t anticipate having the kind of relapses I did before because my environment is so different. My worst fear was going off medication and just completely shattering. That’s not going to happen, because that’s just not how my mind works. The withdrawal won’t be fun, those symptoms usually resemble depression relapses, but once those are over, I don’t see myself emotionally-teleporting back to my 19-year old self.

I’m not saying that I wish I had never started taking antidepressants or that they’re always bad in every case. However, I’m starting to grasp more fully just how little we actually know about depression and anxiety. We’ve been fed this line about how it’s a brain imbalance and if we get the balance of chemicals right, we’ll be fine, but if that was the case, so many people wouldn’t still be depressed. Focusing so much on the biological aspect of depression and anxiety ignores the effect of our environment, social lives, family, work, etc. It’s been weird to read Lost Connections and experience so many “duh” moments simultaneously with “whaaat” moments.

I see my doctor next week. I have no idea what she’s going to say (this is also my first time seeing her, so she might not be as gung-ho about tapering down as I am), but I’m going to stand my ground. I know me better than anyone, I know that it’s time. I’m basically just asking her to write a new prescription if necessary and what kind of reduction schedule I need to follow to prevent withdrawal as much as possible. It will be really nice to not have to set so many alarms and always carry pill supplies around everywhere.

 

Disconnect

So, I left my small group. Yes, the one I started. It wasn’t because of the people – I love the people, and I’m not just saying that. I plan on staying friends with them, and doing fun stuff like hikes and night markets. When it came to the discussion part, though, there was a big disconnect.

They all go to church. One is even a pastor, for God’s sake. I don’t have a problem with that, it’s probably good to be close to people who are secure in their faith and place in the Christian community, but I’m the only one who isn’t. Like, not even close. I went to a Christmas Eve service, and I had to leave and sit in the lobby. Everything about it just made me want to run. The setup of the stage reminded me of my old church, and that brought on waves of sadness at how that community imploded and betrayed me. When the pastor started talking and using phrases like, “Forgiveness isn’t something you can buy on Amazon Prime,” I wanted to roll my eyes all the way back in my head. I got really hot, and walked around outside. It was raining, and the chill felt refreshing. I am not ready to go back to church. I have absolutely no desire to be ready.

I’m not optimistic about finding people who share my experiences. A lot of people who have had traumatic spiritual experiences just end up cutting all of it out their lives. I’m weirdly in-between, where I’ve cut out church and the conservative bent of Evangelicalism, but I do want friends who love Jesus. I’m desperate for people who will hear about I used to read the Bible because I believed if I didn’t, demons would overpower me, and really understand, because they’ve walked that walk. People who have had serious doubts about God’s goodness because at times it seems that mental illness has stolen every dream. Maybe I’m asking for too much.

What Does It Mean To Feel Alive?

For our first small group session, we did an active listening exercise where we described a moment where we felt most alive. Mine was about a morning in Jamaica, the summer of 2011, where I and a few friends got up early to swim. The sun wasn’t scorching yet, and the water was just cool enough to be refreshing. I floated on my back, eyes closed. The last few years had been extremely rough. My soul felt like a raw piece of meat that had been beat with a mallet. It felt like my body and mind were set against me, determined to kill me.

Some people feel most alive when their adrenaline levels are high, but I’m the opposite. For me, high adrenaline levels mean I’m afraid, that I’m in danger. There’s a theory about anxiety that it was biologically important back in the days when life was really dangerous, when we lived without much shelter and death by wild animal was common. That anxiety kept us alive and told us to run when we encountered danger. Now, however, most of us don’t need that much anxiety. I certainly don’t – I’m not in a bad area, I’m pretty much white-passing, and I’m not being hunted by animals. That adrenaline/anxiety sparked up at every little thing, and told my body that sitting in class was a life-or-death situation. I didn’t feel “alive” in those moments, because I wanted the feeling to stop.  I wanted to shut it off. I wanted to be dead, because at least then I could have peace and quiet.

Floating in the ocean, my ears beneath the waves so the only sound was my own breathing, felt like being alive. I felt whole, my mind and body not fighting. It was sort of weird, too, because I also felt disembodied at the same time. That felt like freedom, like I had found a way to escape the chaos of the physical, and just be. Recapturing that is not easy. The closest I get is when I can’t sleep at night, and I lie down in Baxter’s room. It’s the coolest room. The sleeping bag is slippery, and feels a little like water. The only sound is faint rustling. After a half hour or so, I feel calm again, pieced back together, and I can go back to bed and fall asleep.

What this taught me is that my soul is connected to the ocean. Whenever we go to the coast, I know that I could live by it forever. When I’ve visited deserts, like New Mexico, I feel off-kilter, like something is missing. The ocean has its rhythms, like a pair of lungs, and follows the moon. It’s steady, but also not predictable. It’s totally, completely alive.