A while back, I posted about my anxiety disorder, and how I was weaning myself off of Celexa. It’s gotten to the point now where I don’t have any withdrawal symptoms, and I’m totally off the drug. The problem? I’m now definitely, without a doubt, depressed.
When I originally quit, I did it because I felt like my feelings were numbed, I had a hard time having an orgasm, and I had gained about 25lb. I loved how balanced I felt on Celexa, but I hated that my emotions felt confined to 3-7 on a 1-10 scale. It could take me an hour to have a weak orgasm, if I could have one at all. But if I’m being completely honest, the weight was the thing that bothered me the most.
I follow some amazing body-positive bloggers, so admitting that I apparently value being 25lb lighter over my mental health… well, it’s embarrassing. It makes me wonder if I’m a terrible feminist. Or, hell, a terrible person.
While the ability to orgasm was a factor – and has been improved since weaning off – toy testing has been slow because the desire to do much of anything with my time has dropped drastically. I’m 13lb lighter, but I still feel emotionally numb, except when I’m having an anxiety attack. The attacks are shorter and fewer than before I started on Celexa, but that’s hardly an improvement when you consider that depression has shown up in anxiety’s place.
As someone who understands how problematic it is that women are so frequently valued based on their physique, I can’t wrap my head around why I’m doing this to myself. Yes, my body is lighter since I quit the drug. Yes, I can now usually orgasm in under 15 minutes. Can I get dressed and motivate myself to do something fun? Not half as easily as I could have 3 months and 25lb ago. Even if you eschew morality, what’s the point of being vain if I never leave the house?
When I’m not working – which varies a lot in retail – I sometimes spend a day doing absolutely nothing. Invitations to get out of the house are sometimes accepted, but sometimes, I just feel too shitty to be around other people. Frequently, I wish I could sleep for a while, and wake up with a new set of circumstances under which I’d have no “reason” to be depressed.
Note: I have an appointment with a psychiatrist on Monday, and I’m going to get some professional advice. If you’ve experienced anything similar, I’d love to hear from you, especially if you found a solution.