Apparently, Later Had Arrived

I have graduated from taking Zoloft, and it’s been a complete trip.

I didn’t realize how much of my emotions had been suppressed. I mean, it did a great job while I was trying to process all of the heavy stuff that came with depression. Though now, I’m starting to understand myself differently. Here I was thinking all of my past therapists didn’t know anything.

Before the contained version of me, I was dealing with dark thoughts. My sense of humor was a bit disturbing—something only a few people understood—which I was well aware didn’t mix well with everyone. Think of Frank the Rabbit from Donnie Darko mixed with Daria.

That’s why I had such a hard time connecting with people.

I saw the world differently and was hyper-aware of who I was, the people around me, and the energy they carried. I enjoyed me at times, but I hated angry me. My anger was a reaction to my depression. I rarely cried.

I just… raged.

My journey on Zoloft lasted seven years. It was great because it helped tame the ugliness, and it softened my cynical and dark sense of humor. During that time, I went to several therapists and marriage counselors to help process my past and learn healthier coping and communication skills.

I had lived in my head for so long that I had to learn how to identify what I was feeling, why I was feeling it, and how to move through it. I had to learn to sit in pain rather than run from it.

It was hard.

It took years, but I finally feel like I get it. I’m still—and always will be—a work in progress—but I’m much stronger than I was before.

It’s been a little over a month since coming off Zoloft, and it’s been very interesting.

The brain zaps lasted two straight weeks. Thankfully, those are gone now. What surprised me more was how strong my emotions felt. I had completely forgotten what they felt like.

Old triggers resurfaced.

Everyone irritated me.

I found myself holding grudges and replaying things people had said or done days, weeks, and even months ago.

I would cry streams of tears while listening to certain music, hearing a church sermon, or watching a movie. Normally, I would feel moved, cry a little, and move on.

This was different.

I would sit in the feeling and just bawl, like I had lived it myself even when I knew I hadn’t.

One day, I was driving home while listening to Sunflower by Post Malone and Swae Lee. I’ve heard that song a thousand times.

But this time, when Post Malone sang:

“I know you’re scared of the unknown.
You don’t wanna be alone.
I know I always come and go.
But it’s out of my control.”

…it hit my sad bone.

Specifically:

“I know you’re scared of the unknown.
You don’t wanna be alone.”

That was the part that spoke to me.

Not because of the unknown.

Because of being alone.

It touched a deeper fear I’ve been carrying around for a very long time. One I hadn’t fully addressed but knew existed. The kind of fear you tuck away in a little box and convince yourself you’ll deal with later.

Apparently, later had arrived.

Around the same time, I was having a hard couple of weeks with Liam.

Raising a kiddo with special needs is challenging, but this particular stretch left me feeling emotions I hadn’t experienced before. I felt ashamed of how overwhelmed I was becoming.

One day after Liam went to school, I cried.

I called Matt to tell him how I was feeling, but the conversation ended with me feeling worse and even more frustrated.

Later that day, I realized something important.

I didn’t need to be fixed.

I needed to feel understood.

Going back on Zoloft is not an option.

I needed to take the tools I learned in therapy and actually use them. What was the point of doing all that work if I wasn’t going to apply it?

Zoloft didn’t fix my issues.

It was a tool that helped me carry the heavy stuff while I learned healthier and more sustainable ways to manage my triggers, emotions, and thoughts.

Since then, meeting myself all over again while integrating the improved version of me has been a trip.

I’m no longer running away from my feelings.

I’m learning how to face them head-on.

And for the first time in a long time, I trust that I can.