Wednesday, 12 October 2011

Stretch Marks

The time of decreased citalopram has passed and yesterday I began my new packet of sertraline. The period of weaning myself off citalopram turned out to be tougher than I thought it would. Like being on no meds at all but not quite as bad as I've been in the past.

Unfortunately I did damage myself a bit more than preferred. No ODs but some pretty bad cutting. Overall moodiness was at a high and the crying returned with a vengeance.

I'm obviously a bit anxious about switching again. Will this one work? Will I have to keep switching for the rest of my life? Will I lose this 4 stone of weight I gained on that useless drug?

The biggest issue I remain with is stretch marks from the weight gain. They're pretty much everywhere and although I'm covered in scars already, stretch marks can't be explained quite so nicely.

"What are those?"

"Stretch marks from going from model thin to fat by fat standards."

At least before I had my relatively clear skinned legs but now they're covered in these stretch marks. Weight gain with sertraline is apparently less common than with citalopram so that's a plus I guess.

Wednesday, 5 October 2011


For the past week, I have been on a reduced dose of citalopram to ween me off it for a replacement. As of today, I must vary the days I take it. Only take one tablet every other day until I have none left. My eventual replacement? Sertraline.

To say the past week has been unbearable would be an understatement. The only positives that have happened throughout would be my lack of suicide attempts (unusual for me when on minimal dosage) and lack of cocodamol overdose (mainly due to not having any to begin with!)

Sunday, 18 September 2011


It struck me just the other day I haven't listened to Damien Rice in such a long time, possibly over a couple of years now. Of course, I considered at the time looking him out and listening, but I forgot as quickly as I remembered.

Tonight, I witnessed a rather handsome looking maths teacher singing Cannonball and the thought was renewed: Why had I not listened to this music in so long and why am I not listening to it immediately?!

I stick on "9 Crimes" from "9" first, and it strikes me that several songs of his sound so very depressing, and perhaps I stopped in an effort to distract from such feelings. Then as I listened further into the song, memories came flooding back. 16 years old, freezing cold winter, the worst few months I have ever experienced in my life and this song was one I played so very frequently. Even before this period, I had played this song in certain conditions (such as when undergoing relationship issues) and so the emotions linked to the song are very much attached, very strong and very easily remembered. Other songs from that period of time include Leonard Cohen's "Hallelujah" and Lou Reed's "Perfect Day" - unlike the aforementioned however, "Perfect Day" was a song I often listened to when numbed either emotionally or via drugs and so the feelings aren't quite intense.

So why did I take the time to write about this here? Well, first of all, I was clogging up my Twitter page speaking about this as it rolled out of my mind and through my fingertips. Secondly, it's a reminder that while so many things have changed in the past few years - including different conditions, different environments - the feelings still dwell and won't go away. I can still think of things that have happened throughout my life and of course no pill can numb the intensity of those memories. They overpower the strongest dosage of antidepressants and the strongest anxiolytics and I'm a crumbling wreck all over again... Even if it is just for 10 minutes at 5am on a Sunday morning.

Saturday, 17 September 2011


On Friday, I went to the doctor RE: citalopram. When I was on prozac for approx. 2-3 years, I gained 1 and a half stone of weight. Not bad considering I was 8 stone at the time against my 5'7 frame.

However, when I changed to citalopram around a year (maybe less) ago, I have since gained 3 stone more. Now, maybe this wouldn't be too much of an issue if I noticed any other effect on me. I changed from prozac due to it working well... but not well enough. I hoped this would be an improvement. It wasn't.

During the time I've used it, I first began cutting again (after over 6 months clean of it) first intermittently and doing surface wounds. I'm now at the point where it's become my "go to" again when my mood dips, and I'm giving myself stitch-worthy wounds.

The citalopram did start out at a rather weak 20mg, however this was bumped up to 40mg with no effect (and at least with the 20mg, I suspect I may have still had lingering prozac around). The doctor on Friday suggested either bumping it up to 60mg (apparently not ideal, however "as I'm over 20 it should be okay", so I suspect due to the suicide risk. I don't want any further risk.) or changing to something different. I opted for the second option.

My dose of citalopram has been cut in half as of today and I have an appointment for just over a week's time to go back and discuss the next step - phasing it out entirely and starting something new.

Obviously considering my reasons for wanting to change the medication, I'm not optimistic as to the effects of cutting it in half so suddenly while my mood has been so low; basically I'm not sure I'll even make it until my appointment without doing "something stupid".

All I can remember is I dealt with this (well, scraped by) when I had no medication at all, so I know I at least have the ability to.

Wednesday, 30 March 2011

Covering It Up

Sometimes I feel as though I'm being medicated into accepting things which make me unhappy, rather than trying to change or reject them. I'm unhappy with them even when on medication, but instead of acting upon the feelings of unhappiness, I just accept things as they are - not wanting to of course, but having no other choice but to do so.

"I do not want to live in a kind of society where these things are acceptable any more."

Before I would cry, I would often use various methods to make these thoughts go away. Without these methods, they just float through my head without any outward response. Any response is internal, a response of disgust, but one I can't find any kind of outlet for.

Sometimes these things extend to those close to me and I have to act like it doesn't bother me.