Last Wednesday, at the indelicate urging of one of my OB’s partners, I went off my Wellbutrin. She used the term “High Risk OB” as in the doctor I would see for normal visits, and like that, I was done with the medicine.
I’d gone on it in January or February after a lengthy battle with nasty PPD. Whether or not it was pure PPD or the fact that it had been The Year Of No Sleep, the Wellbutrin took the edge off life. After I’d caught myself crying over the demise of the ice maker (why, o why do you desert me, o icemaker?) I’d realized I’d fallen off the rails on a Crazy Train.
I marched my sorry self to my OB and admitted that I needed some help. And it helped a lot.
The following months have been equally hard on me, and I’ve been grateful that I did if for no other reason than it helped me to not chew holes in the walls (much). My friend Steph died in early February and dealing with it is still difficult for me. I have very few doubts I’ll ever get “over” it.
And since I’ve been off my meds, I’m doing….okay. I’m not going to jump off a cliff anytime soon–especially, of course, because Illinois is not known for it’s cliffs–nor am I going to start talking to imaginary people who live in my garbage disposal. It’s this decided LACK of insanity that led me to realize that I could do this, I could be without, for a time.
The biggest issue I’m having is coping with the spotting WITHOUT the pharmaceutical assistance. It’s just as nerve wracking as you can imagine–potentially more so–and this is what I’m struggling most with. I’ve been mum about it because who wants to hear about it?
I was told that I could go back into the world of mood enhancers about week 14 should I choose to, and I’m not making any decisions until I need to. Until then, I’ll be crossing days off the calendar and hoping that ordering a maternity dress for standing up in my best friend’s wedding wasn’t a piss poor idea.
Any suggestions for coping? What would The Internet do?