I’ve been having a rough time bouncing around. I went to San Francisco for a month. Came home for a week, went into town to house sit for a week, then came home to move into the cottage yesterday. Since coming home from San Francisco the bouncing around has left me very unstable without a sense of place. Half the time I haven’t even known where I’m going to be living. The two nights before coming home to get my stuff to move into the cottage I had two sleepless nights. I felt completely out of whack last night and so I thought I needed to sleep whatever the cost. I was wrong….the cost of sleeping has been far greater than sleeplessness.
I took a 25 mg Seroquel. A tiny dose in the realm of how high Seroquel doses can get. I hadn’t taken Seroquel in a year and a half. It was one of the first drugs I went off of. It was my “sleeper” drug. I always slept a hard 11 – 13 hours on it. That is what I wanted last night. I just wanted to be knocked out so I could move today and settle into my new temporary home. I got home yesterday and tried to move over to the cottage and was so sleep deprived I couldn’t do it. Before getting anxious about the move I had been sleeping 8 – 9 hours a night again, so I know it’s possible to stabilize. I just need to be in one place.
In any case, I took the Seroquel. It made me sleep alright. A good 11 hours. It also turned me into the nasty bitch from hell. And the fogged out of my head bitch from hell. And the suicidal bitch from hell and the crying, eyes rolling back into my skull bitch from hell—graphic courtesy of my husband. I had no idea my eyes were rolling.
I would much rather be sleep deprived.
Is there any clear way out of this predicament—I mean the larger one I’m in—this withdrawal trip? I wouldn’t wish this withdrawal journey on my worst enemy. I’m tired. I want to give up. I want my life back. Will I ever be healthy again?
It’s a fucking Catch-22—damned on the drugs, damned coming off of them. I can only hope that being off of them long term will break the Catch.