Paxil Free

May 29th and July 26th, 2001.

I want to talk about the common thread which I think is apparent in the experiences of everyone who has been through paroxetine withdrawal; and, in big bold letters, that common thread is THE FEELING OF BEING CUT OFF FROM THE WORLD. Often it’s not just a feeling; it’s a reality. There are plenty of other crappy things I could single out, things others may consider more important issues, but for me, this is the big one because I’m still working on it; it’s the one which I think causes the most damage and requires the most healing.

Oliver Sacks addresses this in his book, Awakenings (1990 edition), when he describes how a disease can consume a person’s life, consume all of their energy and attention for such a long period of time that (from page 240): “they feel, on the one hand, cut-off or withdrawn from the world, on the other hand immersed, or engrossed, in their illness,” a feeling which I’m sure anyone living with paroxetine withdrawal can relate to. Then he goes on to speak about the ‘awakening,’ or the recovery, in which one ceases to feel the presence of the dis-ease, but is instead naturally drawn towards and engaged by the presence of everything in the living world around them.

It’s been just over a year since my initial withdrawal experience and I wish I could say that I no longer feel the presence of this disease, but I can’t. (Paroxetine withdrawal, and post-withdrawal, is a dis-ease. I’d love to meet someone going through withdrawal who’s sitting back at ease with all of it.) It is less present than it used to be for me, but, along with other symptoms which I am too sick and tired of to describe in detail, I have chronic pain (as in all the time) which disrupts the relaxed flow of my thoughts and feelings and kind of takes the fun out of things; it gets to me at times. It is this cognitive disruption, one which seems physiological in origin, that interferes with my fully feeling the presence of the world around me like I used to, of my fully being able to be myself. I’ve been trying to “walk it off” all this time, but I can’t.

Throughout my Paxil Experience I’ve had people full of good intentions pass on to me the age-old advice, “Don’t dwell on what’s happening to you. Just go outside and enjoy the sunshine and the simple things. You’ll feel a whole lot better.” That’s a simple solution that works, and I know it works because I’ve lived by it for many years — but it works for people who have their health, not for someone who feels like they’ve been hit in the head with an aluminum bat from the withdrawal seizures and the constant headaches and body aches. Let’s crack one of these good-intentioned people across the head with a two-by-four and then tell them not to focus on the pain (impossible); tell them to go out for a leisurely walk while their head is pulsing with pain and enjoy the sunshine which will surely make them feel so much better. Maybe then they’ll realize how misplaced and absurd some of that age-old wisdom can be, especially when it comes from people who don’t have the experience to back it up.
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April 21st, 2002.

I had someone ask me this in an email: “What were you like while taking the Paxil? Did it help you deal with matters better, keep you in control of your emotions? Did you feel better than you do now?”

I didn’t do anything to take care of myself while I was on Paxil, except wake up every morning and take that little pink pill. Talk about taking the easy way out. But yes, it did help me deal better with my emotions. I realized afterwards that I was detached and numbed out from my feelings and the reality of my life, that I didn’t cry once while I was on Paxil. But at the same time I seemed to feel good, relaxed, easy going, both socially and emotionally. Paxil did work for me — I was depressed, then I took the Paxil and wasn’t depressed.

I did feel better then than I do now, but I’m dealing with myself and life differently now, being more honest with myself — not ignoring my emotions by taking Paxil. My life is a hell of a lot harder now than it’s ever been, but that’s the choice I’ve made. Real life can’t be easy all the time. It’s work.

Instead of taking a pill, I’ve decided to face life more honestly and actually identify and work through the underlying issues that caused me to feel depressed in the first place. It would be a hell of a lot easier to start taking Paxil again, but I want to build a foundation of emotional health that is real, not neurochemically induced.

That’s my personal choice, and it’s definitely the hard road, the road less travelled. But I’m giving it a try (it may take years), because if I do managed to live a healthier life where I don’t feel depressed all the time (it’s still a battle for me), it’ll be because I’ve worked on developing more positive and healthier attitudes towards myself, towards taking the action of taking care of myself.
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