I used to be super sensitive to medication. When I was on Effexor, I was on the lowest recommended dose, and even then I developed a severe allergy to the drug that almost made me hospitalize myself.
Since then, I’ve been on Zoloft. It’s been about ten years now, and I can happily say it still basically works for me. Sure, my dosage has increased steadily over the years, but can you blame me? I almost died once, I got out of an abusive relationship, I had my heart destroyed, and then the two most important men in my life killed themselves. There were other terrible things, too, things like having to sue the guy who stole my dad’s car, and that time my dad sued me for $100 million dollars.
Of course I needed my dosage raised. The 2010s were a horrendous decade.
Last week, I had a semi-emergency meeting with my psychiatrist. You see, my brain has developed this cool new ability to dwell on a topic for like four hours at a time. It’s a bit like a panic attack, only more irritating, and usually less reality-based. I was worried that maybe something else was going on in my brain beyond Generalized Anxiety Disorder and what I’m now calling my Trendy Semi-Permanent Depression.
(Side note: What I hate about having an anxiety disorder and depression is that it’s now become a cute™ thing for influencers on the gram to talk about their anxiety and depression and they do so in a way that’s obnoxious. I mean, I’m obnoxious, but they’re like “GOOD VIBES ONLY BUT ALSO I’M DEPRESSED” kind of obnoxious. I’m the fun kind. Ask my mom.)
My psychiatrist started doing that thing where he talks to me about my brain, and then he said something that left me shook: “Well, you’re on the highest recommended dose of Zoloft right now, but I do have other patients who go to 250mg and don’t experience any harmful side effects…
Wait just a tick-tock, I’m on the HIGHEST RECOMMENDED DOSE? I’VE ALMOST EXHAUSTED THE RESOURCES OF MY CRAZY PILLS TRYING TO STAY ONLY KIND OF DEPRESSED AND ANXIOUS ALL THE TIME?
My brain has really become an over-achiever in the last two years.
I mean, sure, in the past two years I’ve been not-depressed for maybe a total of two months, and sure, I’m still depressed right now, but at least I’m still doing things, you know? I still work out. I still spend time with friends. It’s just that sometimes (and by sometimes I mean like twice a week) I will go to bed fully clothed because the day has just worn me out and I have nothing left to give. And while I may blame it on the fact that my kitchen is very small, I still am not cooking for myself. Also,laundry has become almost impossible to fold again, but, like, that’s nothing super new.
It’s just that I used to hold out hope that my anxiety disorder would lessen over time, and that my depression would stick to a manageable seasonal thing. And then my dad and oldest brother killed themselves a year apart, I started having hours-long panic attacks, and I’ve been lowkey depressed ever since.
On the plus side, I’m in the 99th percentile of my Zoloft dose, so at least I’m getting an A at it?