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So this was the moment that changed everything…
I’m putting my 10 year old son to bed and we are listening to the radio. A commercial comes on for “Stop Stigma Sacramento”, it’s an organization that informs and educates people about mental illness.
My son turns to me and says,
“Mom, no offense and I don’t mean anything bad by this, but I think you might be mentally ill.”
Cue the tears from me.
“I’m just saying Mom, that you really seem depressed a lot of the time.”
Cue sobbing.
“Oh… please don’t cry Mom! It’s okay, really! My Doctor can help you (he’s seeing a psychiatrist to deal with his ADD with neurofeedback brain retraining). I know he can, look at how much he helped me.”
And that’s when I saw a psychiatrist.
All of these years I had been seeing physicians, being told I have S.A.D., being put on antidepressants, which made me want to commit suicide. Light boxes that never really worked, vitamin D which never truly fixed the problem. Finally being told that I’m bipolar made so much sense. All I can say is this: you don’t go to a dentist to fix a broken arm, why would you see a physician for mental illness issues?

PS- I have an exceptional son.

 So, I recently had a manic episode, the kind that involves all the fun stuff like not sleeping, being paranoid, having anxiety attacks etc.
So my doctor put me on Seroquel (I’m currently on 200mg of Lamictal).
Let me just say that Seroquel is a special kind of hell. I knew from the get go that I did not like Seroquel. It made me groggy and wonky. As the week proceeded I got increasingly weepy, I couldn’t get through a workout without getting dizzy and wanting to puke.
By the end of the week I was so discouraged, hopeless and fueled by meds that didn’t agree with me, I was feeling pretty sure that suicide was probably the best medical option for me.

Commence husband calling psychiatrist.
Stop taking Seroquel.
Start suicide watch.
Start new meds.
Let’s try Fluoxetine Hcl and olanzapine.
Now let’s sleep for 24 hours straight and have both husband and son check to see if I’m still alive.

So I wake up, a little disconcerted that I’ve somehow lost a whole day; I ask my husband to bring me the meds, I’m curious about what they’ve put me on. I google olanzapine, okay… Zyprexa. I’ve never heard of it, so I read the side effects etc. Nothing I haven’t seen before.
I google Fluoxetine Hcl.
WTF. Prozac?! What F*cking part of “I can’t take SSRIs did she not understand??”
Granted she was apparently at the park with her kid when the emergency page came in from my husband, so my chart wasn’t right there, but seriously though, I’ve BEEN on Prozac before, it made me suicidal.
I hate everything about this.

*update: Zyprexa + Prozac= symbyax
Which works differently than prozac alone?
*sigh* we shall see.