Part 1. Sorry it is long. English is not my first language so please ignore spelling mistakes.
2012 was the year I cold turkeyed Paxil. It went good for about six weeks and then withdrawal kicked in. It started in New York when we made my birthday present trip. Imagine a long flight from Germany to New York and an excited boyfriend that wants to see every side of this city.
It is hard to describe my trip back then, because I was just so weak.I couldn't walk and talk properly. Mentally and physically exhausted. My brain fog was so bad I thought my brain was permanently damaged. I was sitting on a park bench in brooklyn wanting to die while my boyfriend was busy taking photographs. Imagine you are in the city of your dreams and you just want to return to your hotel and sleep. Sleep as long as it may take to wake up and feel normal.
The years of my withdrawal are just a blank space. Most of it I can't even remember. I was traumatised and a mess. Paxil flu hit me hard in my waves. Didn't matter if it was winter or summer I was wearing layers of clothes and shivering under my blanket. I still wear socks to bed after all those wd years because I might get cold. It is a habit I can't stop. I could not read. I didn't read for maybe three years. I cried when I watched Ally Mc Beal reruns.
Most of the time after work I just stared at the walls or googled symptoms. I became Dr Google. I don't know how many scientific articles I have read, but I was desperate. Desperate to find an answer and desperate to get better. I would have sold everything for the magic healing pill, but pills got me here in the first place. The irony of life.
Edited by scallywag, 24 August 2016 - 04:10 PM.
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