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First I apologize if I'm not very good at this. This is my first time ever writing an entry on a blog period.

I guess I'll start... where it all started...
A doctor prescribed me seroquel. Wait lets rewind a bit. I was living away from home at the time getting my masters in Counseling Psychology. Ironic? Yes. I've always dealt with anxiety, panic attacks, and battled an eating disorder since age 16. I don't remember a life without anxiety. Well things got pretty bad while in school. I started feeling hopeless, helpless, my self worth was very low, I started experiencing agoraphobia for the first time, and was insanely depressed. After spilling my guts to a friend she suggested i go to the hospital and try to get help. After telling a doctor I was at the point of feeling suicidal I instantly signed up for a stay in the mental hospital. The hospital stay itself is a story for another time. One thing that resulted from my stay? A 50mg receipt for a prescription called seroquel to help with my lovely insomnia. My insomnia involved me staying up for 48+ hours which the doc was saying contributed to anxiety and depression. Seroquel made me sleep like a little drunk baby. It was great. I finally understood what my snoring husband was experiencing and why people liked bed time. One of the little down falls? A BIG fat 100+lbs of weight gained on a gal with an eating disorder. Ironic? Yes. As most experiences with medication I felt better, and forgot what it felt like to not sleep. I decided I wanted OFF of this demon drug. I could not lose weight no matter how hard I tried and a new doctor told me it was due to seroquel. My new doc weaned me off of seroquel way too fast. From experiences with other meds I should have known better. When I'm coming off a med I feel every withdrawal symptom. So, I didn't sleep for two nights after I took my last small dose. The next day I experienced my very first episode of derealization. I was in my moms bedroom and started feeling anxious and foggy. I dont know how i looked but my mom paused her story to ask if I was okay. All of a sudden I was overcome with the feeling that I was stuck in a dream. I looked at my mother and recognized her as my mother but it didn't feel like it was actually her. Nothing sounded, smelled, or looked right. I had a fleeting thought that if I jumped out a window I'd wake up from this alternate reality. I was filled with the worst fear. I didn't know how to escape the feeling other than doing something drastic to snap out of it. I tried my best to express what I was feeling to my mom and sister and they looked terrified. My mother started praying over me and my sister fed me klonopin. Soon I started to calm down and stop hyperventilating. My mother shared it was something that my dad had dealt with when they were still married and my sister said it seemed like I was on a bad trip. It was an event that has changed my life since, and its now been 2 years. I have random episodes of derealization which causes extreme anxiety and causes depression as I'm tired and frustrated. After using words like off, dream, and fog I now know to call it derealization and that makes me feel a little better for some reason. Maybe because I finally feel like I'm not (too) crazy and I'm not alone. I'm happy to talk to anyone about my story and share any information on this disorder.

Currently taking: Lamictal, Trazodone, Lexapro

Have taken: Seroquel, Prozac, Klonopin, Gabapentin, Zoloft, Celexa


Hair Arm Eye Jaw Gesture

sadpenguin
Sep 21 2016 03:02 AM

Wow your story is very interesting. I'm so sorry that you have to go through all of this, you sound like your struggles have made you a very intelligent person. Feel free to message me if you ever need to talk!

 
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