The "Well" in Wellbutrin is Questionable to Me

"Mankind has survived all kinds of catastrophes. It will also survive modern medicine." ~ Gerhard Kocher (Swiss Political Scientist, Economist)

Funny how we continue to do or use things well after they have proved to be unhelpful. Whether related to a relationship, a thought process, a habit, a way of functioning....it's all very similar. I was placed on Wellbutrin years ago to help manage some pretty intense feelings of depression I was experiencing. Although it - at times - helped bring the depression from completely unbearable to a constant undercurrent, it never brought it to a functional place. Perhaps that was an unrealistic expectation. Regardless, since finding alternative medicinal practices and eliminating things that were contributing significantly to my feelings of depression, I finally overcame my fear of stopping my prescribed medications. Currently, I am still having benefits from a small dose of anti-anxiety medication (which I have also reduced by half since January) but a month ago I stopped taking Wellbutrin. All I can say is, what a wild trip that was.

As someone who has kicked a variety of substances over the years, I can honestly say that getting off Wellbutrin was one of the more intense experiences I've had doing so. Wellbutrin does not come in a dose smaller than 150mg; therefore, gradually reducing the dose is somewhat complicated. After consulting with both my family doctor and naturopath, the best suggestion provided was weaning off it by taking it one day and not the next for a period of time, then moving to skipping two days in a row, to three, etc. I was told that this would produce a very bumpy withdrawal from the medication, as the withdrawal symptoms are fairly acute with this particular medication.  Cutting the medication into smaller doses was also complicated as doing so shifts the medication from being slow release to quick release and would require me to take pieces of the pill throughout the day. In knowing myself and how hard it is to remember to take my vitamins/supplements everyday, I knew this wasn't a realistic option. My decision: just stop taking the damn stuff and ride it out, which is what I did on February 26, 2012.

I'm only starting to feel "normal" now (four weeks after stopping the med) and this feeling of normalcy is greatly assisted by taking 200mg of a natural serotonin booster called 5-HTP everyday. I doubt I'd be feeling okay without it at this point. Just like when a person takes steroids and the body stops naturally producing testosterone as it gets used to the synthetic kind, my brain stopped producing it's own serotonin a long time ago, leaving me in a state of complete serotonin depletion when I stopped the Wellbutrin. The withdrawal symptoms associated to stopping this medication are very real and intensive and imaginably were so difficult for me due to the length of time I was taking it. The most prominent features of my withdrawal included serious feelings of agitation and anxiety, coupled with insomnia, excessive bouts of crying/weeping and GI problems. My belly was a very unhappy place and my appetite disappeared while dealing with the nausea and tummy cramps. One day in particular, in a seven hour period at my place of employment, I cried four times with little provocation. Then I came home and cried some more. That happened repeatedly and made me look like a lunatic to those who had no idea what I was experiencing. I was often heard saying things like, I just want to run someone over with my car or I want to bash so-and-so's head in, which is quite unlike me. I was a mess....and not the hot-kind.

I have weathered the storm, however, and the sun is starting to peak through the clouds again. I am working diligently with my naturopath and osteopath to maintain balance in my life and that is a great support. I am exercising as regularly as I can manage and I view this activity level as part of my new "medication regime" when stopping my prescribed one. I need all the help I can get. My goal is to be off all of my medication prior to departing for Africa (136 days) but if along the way it becomes clear that this is an unrealistic goal, I will be okay with that. The thought of being free from the things that keep me tethered to dependency or reliance on anything but myself is liberating. I want to know that should I ever be stranded on a desert island that does not have a pharmacy, pot plant, liquor store, or cigarette factory near by that I will not cease to exist. This is the overarching goal behind all of this forward movement and change. I have a long way to go, particularly in relation to that cigarette factory. Hot damn, I'm smoking a lot and I hate it. Once I have achieved greater stabilization, the cigarette smoking is the next thing my naturopath and I will be working on. We suspect that the use of hypnosis and acupuncture will greatly assist this process, along with homeopathy, determination and support. Stay tuned for that one.

The Little One Leaves

"You may give them your love but not your thoughts, for they have their own thoughts. You may house their bodies but not their souls, for their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams." ~ Khalil Gibran (Lebanese - American Artist, Poet, Writer)

I have been working with a girl who I refer to as 'Little C' since August 2010, which is a long time in residential treatment. Not to say that I haven't worked with kids for longer; I had one boy for two and a half years. 18 months has been too long for Little C and she has experienced many trials and tribulations during that time. From a small Aboriginal community up north, Little C came to us as an aggressive, abused, addicted teenager. I remember the day she first came into my residence - it was her birthday. Happy birthday to her, moved hours away from her home to come live with strangers who knew jack shit about her world. She looked like a boy wearing the gangster clothes that were 3 times too big for her very small frame. Her hair hung in her face and she was without the glasses she desperately needed because, somewhere along the line, she had broken them again. She was hungover from partying for her birthday, wobbling on her feet from a profound lack of sleep, too much booze and who knows what else. And she was pissed. Her eyes betrayed her as she tried to appear calm; they told me stories of her disdain for the adults in her life who had hurt her and those who were "trying to help her change her life." She didn't want any help and she was wiser than most of us.

Little C was placed in the care of the local Children's Aid around age two or three. Removed from her home, as all of her older sisters had been, due to her mother being a homeless alcoholic who had damaged her body so much she was on dialysis three times a week. Her father, dead, stabbed in a knife fight at a local bar. Little C doesn't remember him. Her three older sisters, all with substance abuse problems, regularly used Little C as a punching bag to take out their anger, resulting in her having a broken nose, broken ribs, and a broken heart. Bounced between placements - both foster and group homes - Little C only remembers one family who had a positive impact on her life, who cared about her deeply, and who she was removed from after living with them for some years. She learned quickly that nothing was permanent and that love was a temporary feeling that couldn't be trusted. Her life consisted of garbage bags full of clothing and pictures of her family with worn edges due to being trekked between the various places she's lived. Despite all of this, Little C is fiercely loyal to her family, accepting of the fact that her destiny is directly tethered to theirs and that, likely, this will result in her drowning.  Over the past 18 months, I have witnessed her reaching out to her family back home, only to be on the receiving end of conversations with her mother that are incomprehensible to most of us. She is commonly heard saying, Mom, I know you're drunk....can you just talk to me?

Little C is by far the most affectionate youth I have ever worked with and, given that the staff cannot engage in physical affection with the children they work with, she identified me as the person to get this affection from. She fits perfectly under my arm and will wrap herself around my waist to hold on tight for her hugs. Her head sits directly underneath my chin. Over the time we have spent together, she has called me many things - darling, Mom, her friend, her clinish. In reality, the only appropriate name is clinish but I don't really give a shit. I wish I could be all of those things to her. We meet weekly for her therapy sessions, talking about any number of things from her family to her future to her relationships with boys (and, sometimes, girls). Generally, no topic is off limits; however, she can skillfully avoid conversation around things that make her heart hurt if she is not up to it. Every week she asks me to adopt her. It takes everything in my being to not say, okay, come home with me.

All of the youth I have worked with over the years have been unique and special. Not all of them have carved a place in my heart however. I think there's been three who have accomplished this and Little C overrides any deep feelings I've had for other youth in my care. She is what I look forward to when I enter the residence, she is what I look forward to in my endless week of meetings and paperwork. She has a part of me, as I have a part of her.

In the beginning of March, Little C is being discharged back to her home community. One of her sister's is pregnant and just got out of jail and the two other sisters are continuing with their legacy of substance abuse - as is her mother. She knows exactly what she is walking back into. Despite any change that she has made over the past 18 months of treatment, nothing has changed within her family system and this is unlikely to ever happen. In order to cope, she will drink and drug and place herself in extreme situations of danger, as this is all she knows. She will become lost within herself and found all at the same time. She will be back where she started. My heart breaks when I think of her leaving; selfishly I want her to stay in treatment with me forever. I want to know she is well fed with a warm bedroom and a chance at an education. I want to know that she is safe when she is asleep. I want my hugs, as they bring us both a measure of peace and comfort. I don't know who has learned more from who, as I have certainly learned about survival from her. She has learned love from me, which is not the lessons I am professionally supposed to impart on the youth I work with. It is what it is and I am not ashamed of the relationship we have built.

The only thing I can hope for is that she remembers me, somewhere deep in her heart, and that she takes me with her through her life journey. I hope that she remembers that someone loved her once in all the right ways, without abuse, exploitation, conditions or expectations. And may be, should she continue to survive, she will someday reflect back on her darling, her Mom, her friend, her clinish and offer herself the same love that I did.

To Little C....you have a piece of me.

The Naturopath

"Natural forces within us are the true healers of disease."  ~ Hippocrates (Ancient Greek Physician).

After my osteopath and I completed the bulk of our work together, he suggested that I meet with the naturopath working at the clinic to work through deeper issues. I had goals around quitting smoking both cigarettes and, more importantly (and harder to accomplish), pot. My osteopath knew his limits. So, I booked an appointment to meet with the naturopath, knowing that I could not afford to do so past the allotted dollars I had in my benefits package through work (I have a great plan that includes $500 for acupuncture, osteopath & naturopath services). The first appointment cost $260, so I knew $500 wouldn't go far. However, what I quickly realized is that healing my soul was priceless and that's precisely what he's been able to do for me.

It is said, by whom I'm not sure, that one appointment with a naturopath (a good naturopath and they are not all created equally) is the equivalent to a year's worth of therapy. This is astoundingly accurate. Basically, what mine did was meet with me to do an assessment that involved asking me a lot of questions about how I feel. My job was to describe, in detail, how I felt, which was far more difficult than expected. For example, one of the feelings I constantly felt was the feeling of being scattered, on fast-forward, and restless. He got me to describe each of these things, as in: what does scattered feel like? He attempted to get me to describe this concept without attaching it to the human condition and the best I could come up with was describing that I felt like a dandelion whose seeds were uncontrollably blowing with each passing wind.

After meeting for around an hour and a half, he prescribed me a remedy, of which I had no idea what it was. Naturopath's who use homeopathy give remedies that are either plant, animal, mineral or energy based. As it turned out, mine was energy based. I cannot really explain what that means as it would take a lot of time and (ha) energy. But, what he gave me has since worked to heal my soul in more ways than I could imagine. It is not a drug; rather it is water that has been exposed to a certain energy source for a certain amount of time in certain conditions. If you understand quantum physics, which I do not, you know that water can absorb the energy of different things - and that is the best explanation I can offer.

The first time I took my remedy, I felt like what I imagine a Zen-monk feels like after meditating for 20 consecutive years in a monastery in Tibet. Everything inside of me just stopped. All the feelings of restlessness and being on fast-forward halted and, I will say, it was extremely uncomfortable. This feeling was so unknown to my body and brain, I found myself smoking a lot of pot just to deregulate myself to return to my baseline state of anxiousness. Weird, I know, but I couldn't manage it. Over time, however, this feeling became far more attractive and now, about two to three months later, I cannot live without it. We have adjusted the potency of my remedy three times to find the one that is most beneficial to me, which ended up being the lowest potency that I take more frequently. Since this time, my life has changed dramatically.

I am now addicted to being happy, instead of being addicted to pot. I stopped my almost 20 year habit about two months ago and it was simple. Something I struggled with for almost two decades was no longer a difficult goal to achieve and I don't miss it nor crave it. There were other changes as well that involved ongoing feelings of calmness, being centered and reflective insight. I am a dramatically different person. A happy, happy, happy person.  I meet with my naturopath on a monthly basis to continue our work together and just being in his presence makes me feel like my feet are firmly planted on the ground. That and the feeling that the possibilities within my life are endless. 

Dolphin Boy

Given that I do therapy with traumatized teenagers, this story (featured on The Passionate Eye) carried special meaning for me. It is 45 minutes in length and worth every moment of your time.

Enjoy.
http://www.cbc.ca/passionateeye/episode/dolphin-boy.html#

Unstoppable.

"Life is to be lived. If you have to support yourself, you had bloody well better find some way that is going to be interesting. And you don't do that by sitting around wondering about yourself." ~ Katharine Hepburn (American Actress).

I've been working pretty damn hard on myself since November 2010. As a person who has struggled with....well, basically everything.....for years upon years, I felt that my 33rd year better be big. Not getting any younger, that's for sure. I've realized that change is absolutely possible given the right support. You'd think I would have inherently known this given that I am a children's therapist....but, as we know, we therapists are awesome at solving anyone else's problems but our own.

Over the past 15 months I have accomplished the following:

- 15 months of therapy with a rockstar therapist to work through practically everything. Have accomplished all the goals I laid out at the beginning of therapy and am now starting to wean off sessions because all I talk about is happy stuff now.

- Quit biting my nails, a lifelong affliction. 

- Went gluten-free/ mostly organic and stopped eating red meat.

- Quit smoking pot, another lifelong affliction. 

- Ceased looking for approval from anyone but myself, particularly my wacky family. 

- Developed and following through with a plan to travel to Africa to volunteer for two months (193 days left on the countdown).

- Started seeing an Osteopath and Naturopath, which are helping me save me.

- Enrolled in an African dance class, which I begin tonight.

- Became social with friends (see quit smoking pot).

- Stopped sleeping all the time (again, see quit smoking pot).

- Recently started exploring Qigong and am looking into Tai Chi classes.

This list makes me proclaim: I am fucking unstoppable man!!!! 

Rock on. 

Beautiful.

Oh, the Places You'll Go at Burning Man.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ahv_1IS7SiE&feature=share

My sister sent me this link today because it reminded her of me. I felt understood in that moment and it brought tears to my eyes.

Enjoy.

It's Beginning to Look A Lot Like Africa

"The difference between great people and everyone else is that great people create their lives actively, while everyone else is created by their lives, passively waiting to see where life takes them next. The difference between the two is the difference between living fully and just existing." ~ Michael E. Gerber (Non-fiction Writer)

Opening up my Christmas presents and seeing items such as a bug net, water purification tablets, and a Whiz It (a contraption that allows women to pee standing up - hahaha), made things even more real. The date is creeping closer and, as of today, I sit at 214 days until departure. Time is moving so quickly all of a sudden and there's so much to accomplish.....so much I still don't know and need to figure out. 

When I close my eyes and picture myself there, the place I've dreamed of for so long, I get butterflies in my stomach. 

I like butterflies. 

What Would Jesus Do?

"Santa Claus has the right idea.. Visit people once a year." ~ Victor Borge (Danish Comedian, Conductor, Pianist)

I am adopted...secretly. It is the only answer I can muster that might explain my presence in a family that is so totally different than myself. I must have been adopted and no one told me. I wish they would tell me so that this theory could transition from wishful thinking into my reality. I have plenty of evidence to discount this theory, such as pictures of my mother and father and sister in the hospital with me on the day I was born. I look brand new and my mother looks like shit after allegedly giving birth me....hmmmm, pretty strong evidence to the contrary of my theory. Oh well....I'll keep fantasizing. And really....not being adopted allows me to think to myself, WOW, I turned out so well considering the circumstances. That's a happy, self esteem boosting thought.

I think I should point out that most family hilarity that I might write about on my blog EXCLUDES my dear, darling father who is, if nothing else, normal and kind. How he has managed to survive the regime he has been living under for over 40 years is beyond me....and no, the answer is not the excessive consumption of alcohol. My mother declared him an alcoholic many years back, taking away the one thing he might have been able to successfully use to cope. It helps me, I know that for sure. I don't think my father was an alcoholic, I just think he did not handle his liquor very well and was prone to drinking too much of it on occasion. Show me someone who doesn't do that! I've been known to stumble down a stair or two (or a flight of stairs, depending on how well my evening has gone). Regardless, I give him props for using what was available to him at the time to help him survive and if he started drinking again tomorrow, I'd stand and applaud him.

This holiday season was the exact replica of the one before that. Oh - and the one before that. Actually, there is a long succession of sucky holiday seasons that are firmly rooted in my memory and each and every time I have had the occasion to even consider - for a moment - moving back to my province, they have served me well in snapping me concretely back into reality. A sharp 'fuck that' and 'what the fuck were you thinking, even if only for 2.4 seconds' clearly reverberates through my consciousness. This year the major, overarching theme was: complaining. My mother complaining about my sister; my sister complaining about my mother, her husband, her life - well, basically everything. This season, I took a vastly different approach in the management of this considerable negative energy...but, don't worry, I didn't switch it up too much - there was still the over consumption of many a bottle of wonderful wine. I disengaged. I did not respond. I pretended to listen while giving a nod or a hmmm once in awhile when really I was thinking about my upcoming trip to Africa, world poverty, my next massage appointment, or many other more interesting topics. And I will say, it worked! Once in awhile, I inserted a snappy comeback to their constant meanderings about how much their lives suck, such as, I wonder what Jesus would do? Apparently, I was the only one entertained by this but, really...it was all about me and survival at that point and if I could provide myself with some tidbits of entertainment...I was all over that.

I hope everyone had a holly, jolly drunken Christmas and that you too found ways to entertain yourself while enduring the obligatory family time. Happy New Year!

Christmas with the Crazies

"Where do you think you're going? Nobody's leaving. Nobody's walking out on this fun, old-fashioned family Christmas. No, no. We're all in this together. This is a full-blown, four-alarm holiday emergency here. We're gonna press on, and we're gonna have the hap, hap, happiest Christmas since Bing Crosby tap-danced with Danny fucking Kaye. And when Santa squeezes his fat white ass down that chimney tonight, he's gonna find the jolliest bunch of assholes this side of the nuthouse." ~ Clark Griswold (National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation)

I head home for the holidays on the 23rd. Home to the Maritimes, home to my friends, home to my family. If you've read my previous posts, you know how different I am from my family (those fundamental differences that make everything oh, so interesting) and one of these particular differences were recently highlighted in an email I received from my sister. I recently received my "itinerary" for my entire holiday vacation - each day laid out with where I will be and who I will be with. Every moment accounted for, every interaction pre-planned. This made me laugh, as opposed to cry, because I am unfortunately used to it. Oddly enough, I was just super happy that time with my friends was actually planned into my vacation schedule.

My parents wonder why I spend my holidays drinking copious amounts of alcohol and I wonder to myself, doesn't every one cope with their family during the holidays by drinking excessively? It's so effective! The more I drink, the funnier they become.

There'd better be a case of wine waiting for me.

I'm Alive!

"Few people know how to be old." ~ François de la Rochefoucauld (Writer)

My mother is succumbing to "old age" at 63. Not 73 or 83 - 63. Her new favorite saying is, "I'm too old to deal with this," which could involve pretty much anything. She has taken to sleeping all the time, is gaining more weight due to the over consumption of everything within her line of vision, and will not walk anywhere. Not even from her car in the parking lot of the mall to her very favorite stores. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if she soon starts to insist on having someone push her around the mall in a wheelchair, despite the fact that she is totally able bodied. She hurt her back about a year ago and was never so proud as the day she received her handicapped sticker for her car so she could park even closer and walk even less. All she does is watch fucking Coronation Street.

So today, when I stumbled upon the link below, I sent to it her with the message of, if you are so determined to be old, please choose to be old like this.

Wonder what her response will be. Please watch and be entertained. 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X13dSfxCd_s&ob=av2e