by Marcia Purse
Near the end of the third week of July I had successfully dropped three medications from my daily cocktail - Trazodone, Topamax and Zyprexa. As described in Part 1, my goal was to clear all psychotropic medications from my system so I could enter a clinical study examining the effectiveness of Seroquel, Paxil and placebo in treating bipolar depression. All three of the medications I had dropped were meds that had helped me sleep, but so far I wasn't having a great deal of trouble with sleep, which kind of surprised me.
On July 20th Dr. Meyer had me start the next step - tapering off Celexa. I went from 20 milligrams a day to 10 for 5 days, then 5 for three days, then 0, 5, 0, 5, 0. In spite of knowing that discontinuing an SSRI antidepressant can cause some significant problems, I wasn't worried at all about this step - I had something else on my mind.
If you've glanced at the Guides' names at the top of many articles on this website, you've seen two of us listed - Kimberly Read and me. Kim and I got to know each other in the chat rooms of the old Prodigy network, became fast friends and built About Bipolar Disorder together beginning in 1998, finally meeting face-to-face at an About Guide convention a few years after we met online. Not a surprise, then, that it was Kim who shed new light on what's been bothering me for months.
We were talking on ICQ, as we do all the time. Earlier I had commented that the creep next door at work had still not apologized to me for his employee's theft of my bird feeders, and that I wished he would so I could tell him to go to hell; now I was talking about feeling overwhelmed. Kim said, "From my perspective, your funk seems to be stemming from a lack of feeling important, of feeling needed and helpful. The things that seem to be upsetting you the most - like the birds - are things you can't fix but feel like you should. I think you need a helping hobby or a pet - something that allows you to nurture or mother something outside your self. Is that making sense? You really have a need to be needed and that isn't being fed right now."
I replied, "It's really kind of sad ... my garden is normally where my nurturing used to go. But that hasn't worked right since I have been here. I guess that's why I overdo every year, or part of it. I would honestly love to go outside for awhile after work and tend to the flowers ... but not when it is 90 degrees."
Kim said, "I really think you should consider a pet. Pets so need our love and give so much back. And gardening is VERY high maintence and you've had some physical health problems." (No kidding - my back hasn't been right since March 2004.)
Doubtfully I said, "It would have to be something in a cage, like a bird or a hamster. Mom won't have a cat, and I'd be afraid she'd fall over it anyway." But I knew this didn't appeal to me. A few minutes later I was saying, "I love cats. It's now more than ten years since my beloved Tommy-cat died and I swore I'd never have another cat. I think I could probably do it again by now. Just so long as I got a good cat. Maybe I could talk Mom into it if I got real pathetic." I added, "I've had cats die young and cats die old, but Tommy was the best cat ever born in the history of the world and losing him was like losing half my heart." And I started talking about the cats who have shared their lives with me. Our conversation had begun at 10:00 pm. At 10:30 I left the keyboard to talk to Mom. At 10:34 I came back and shouted exultantly, "MOM SAYS I CAN HAVE A CAT!"
Kim had nailed it. Her timing, coming not long after we'd published my friend Joy's article The Cats Who Saved My Life, was perfect. For the rest of the work week I looked forward excitedly to Saturday - I can't remember the last time I looked forward to something so much!
Midday Saturday Mom and I drove to the local no-kill shelter, where we met my brother, his wife and their two daughters, who were familiar with the place. What an experience!
