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Wednesday, November 24, 2010

How I Got Here: Part Two

Fast forward a little more than 2 years later. On April 29, 2008, I lost my baby brother to an accidental overdose. He was 19 years old. The ways his death affected me and still do are too numerous to put down on paper.
My parents and I started seeing a grief counselor and she was great. She waited about a month until she finally referred us to a psychiatrist. She didn't expect us to be better, but she didn't feel we were in a healthy place either. It was time for medication. And the psychiatrist was quick to put us all on it. *Insert a giant eye roll right here*
He put me on an antidepressant called Lexapro. And it was going okay for probably a month or two. But then one night I got off work and I was really, really missing my brother. There was a bottle of Crown at our house and I decided I'd take a couple of shots. They went down really smooth and easy and I didn't feel anything... at first.
I skipped my medicine that night because there was no way I was going to mix it with liqour. (I swear I don't have a drinking problem, despite what these blogs may otherwise portray! ;))
The next day, I went ahead and took my Lexapro after lunch. Later that afternoon, my grandmother invited Abbie and I to go get icecream. Sure, I said, and off we went. On the way, I started to feel funny. By the time I got Abbie out of her carseat, I was shaking. We went inside and ordered, all the while with my heartrate going up and up.
Finally, I went to the bathroom. Again, I thought this pill I'd taken was having an adverse affect on me. I thought it was going to kill me. I put cold paper towels on my neck and tried just breathing, relaxing, and praying.
I went back to my seat and still felt awful. Back in the bathroom, I again tried to get the medicine or anything else out of my system. I remember throwing up the lunch we'd ordered that day and wondering if I was having food poisoning. I ended up going to the bathroom 3 times at least, terrified it was the only place I could try and treat my symptoms. Again, I had no idea what people around me were thinking. But I didn't care. I thought I was dying.
Finally, I told my grandmother we had to go. I asked her to drive home, despite the fact that I never had her drive with Abbie and I (she's a good driver, but she's elderly and has arthritis and vision problems). By the time we got to the parking lot, my body had done a 180 and I could drive home.
I had a good family friend (and convenient neighbor) come over and help me with Abbie while I laid down, still shaken, nauseated, and exhausted from the ordeal at the ice cream place. I felt as if I'd been run over by a truck. I was still shaking and so sick.

To be continued... ;)

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