I saw a wonderfully cute movie this weekend, Julie and Julia. At one point in the movie, Julie writes on her blog, is anyone out there??? anyone, anyone? I'll admit, after a few weeks at this, I'm beginning to feel the same way. But, then again, I follow a whole three blogs myself, so can I really complain that no one reads mine? Nah, probably not.
That's not what I'm writing about today though. I've often wondered if scientists were to take apart our brains, would they discover something different about the brain of an addict vs. that of someone who has never dealt with addiction. Not to push the blame onto genetics, we have full control of whether or not we choose to continue to pump our bodies full of a substance we know we cannot have just a little of, or that we know is tearing our lives apart. But I do wonder if we are somehow predisposed to becoming chemically dependent.
Let's backtrack a little. Almost a year ago, I had a baby. A beautiful baby boy. Things became strange for me following his birth, and paranoia took over my life. I wasn't depressed (except about the paranoia) but I was afraid to leave the house with the baby. And after he spent time in the NICU, I was certain he was going to stop breathing at home. I constantly checked his lips and fingers for blueness. After much prayer, I finally called my OB. I discovered that one doesn't have to be depressed to have postpartum depression. So, there ya go. They put me on an SSRI and the paranoia POOF! disappeared.
Fast forward back to the present. I decided it was time to start weaning off the drug for personal reasons. With the promise to my OB that if my symptoms returned at all, I would promptly return to the treatment plan. Within 24 hours of missing my first dose, my world fell apart. The second time we tried, I survived four days. Then the hallucinations started and the world began spinning. I had a hard time walking straight. I was cold, then hot, the cold, then hot... well, you get the picture. It was the worst day of my life to this point.
Apparently, less than 2 percent of people experience such serious withdrawal symptoms. And this typically occurs after long term use at high dosages, not short term use at a small dosage. So, what gives. What the heck is going on?
We've decided to wait a few more months before giving it another shot. My OB seems to believe this is just further proof that I still need the medication for PPD. We shall see. I know that God has a plan and this will all work out in His good timing. ((Perhaps this is what I get for praying for patience. It drives me crazy not having complete control over my body.)) In the meantime, we will wait on Him.
On the bright side, all of our baseboards are clean, the floor is swept, I've cleaned out my toddler's closets and drawers!!! :)
That's not what I'm writing about today though. I've often wondered if scientists were to take apart our brains, would they discover something different about the brain of an addict vs. that of someone who has never dealt with addiction. Not to push the blame onto genetics, we have full control of whether or not we choose to continue to pump our bodies full of a substance we know we cannot have just a little of, or that we know is tearing our lives apart. But I do wonder if we are somehow predisposed to becoming chemically dependent.
Let's backtrack a little. Almost a year ago, I had a baby. A beautiful baby boy. Things became strange for me following his birth, and paranoia took over my life. I wasn't depressed (except about the paranoia) but I was afraid to leave the house with the baby. And after he spent time in the NICU, I was certain he was going to stop breathing at home. I constantly checked his lips and fingers for blueness. After much prayer, I finally called my OB. I discovered that one doesn't have to be depressed to have postpartum depression. So, there ya go. They put me on an SSRI and the paranoia POOF! disappeared.
Fast forward back to the present. I decided it was time to start weaning off the drug for personal reasons. With the promise to my OB that if my symptoms returned at all, I would promptly return to the treatment plan. Within 24 hours of missing my first dose, my world fell apart. The second time we tried, I survived four days. Then the hallucinations started and the world began spinning. I had a hard time walking straight. I was cold, then hot, the cold, then hot... well, you get the picture. It was the worst day of my life to this point.
Apparently, less than 2 percent of people experience such serious withdrawal symptoms. And this typically occurs after long term use at high dosages, not short term use at a small dosage. So, what gives. What the heck is going on?
We've decided to wait a few more months before giving it another shot. My OB seems to believe this is just further proof that I still need the medication for PPD. We shall see. I know that God has a plan and this will all work out in His good timing. ((Perhaps this is what I get for praying for patience. It drives me crazy not having complete control over my body.)) In the meantime, we will wait on Him.
On the bright side, all of our baseboards are clean, the floor is swept, I've cleaned out my toddler's closets and drawers!!! :)
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