Last week, I emailed my doctor and let her know that although I was feeling some improvement, I was not where I wanted to be in terms of controlling my anxiety. She suggested that I increase my dose to 200 mg. That’s the maximum dose of Zoloft. Beyond that, she said she would have to consult with their psychology department before deciding where to go. (She’s family practice.)
I cried. I felt like I was failing. I know it’s not logical, but I felt like it was my fault the Zoloft wasn’t working. I was scared. It’s pretty disheartening to have to keep increasing your meds for months until your doctor tells you that if this doesn’t work, you basically have to start over. I just wanted to feel better. I needed to feel better.
That night, I dutifully counted out 8 of those tiny little 25 mg pills. It seemed like so much. Too much. But I took them. I did it again the next day, and again the day after that. I asked my doctor for larger pills so that I didn’t have to take 8. She filed the prescription change immediately. It’s a total mind game, but taking 2 pills feels better than taking 8.
In the midst of it all, my in-laws arrived for a 7-night stay. Seven nights with my in-laws. I was sure I was going to break.
Except I didn’t. I was enjoying myself. We were working on the house, lounging in the back yard, cooking meals, and spending time with Charlotte. On Sunday, I ducked out for a few hours to go clothes shopping for myself—something I very rarely do. We really enjoyed having the help.
The things that usually get to me about them didn’t really get to me. I had a few moments where I struggled not to roll my eyes, but I was able to move past it quickly.
Catch just kind of took it all in. I think she was torn between enjoying the change and wondering when the other shoe would drop. It didn’t.
I feel fantastic. I mean, I either have a head cold or some severe allergies right now and that sucks, but mentally, I am in a place I barely even recognize. I am able to be so much more rational about things. I feel like my emotional response to challenges is more in line with that of a normal human being (whatever that is).
My in-laws leave this afternoon, and although I am grateful that we’ll have our house to ourselves again, I feel like that’s a normal response to having 5 people in 1200 sq feet sharing one bathroom in 100+ degree heat for 8 days. I can’t even imagine how I would have handled that without Zoloft. It’s working. Finally.
I am grateful for so much right now. I don’t think I could have done this without the support of my wife and this easy, affordable access to healthcare. I know how privileged I am to have both of those things, and it saddens me that access to support and healthcare (especially mental health) are privileges in the US. I’m giving that a lot of thought these days, and it’s something that I’ll probably touch on again in the near future.