Tag Archives: antidepressants

break up sex with alcohol–and a minor miracle

according to the noted philosopher neil sedaka, breaking up is hard to do.  and i have decided to break up with alcohol and it’s rough.  i researched some options.

americans are a congenial, sociable, dyi lot.  so alcoholics anonymous is a very american way of dealing with the breakup.  and i’ve gone to meetings.  unfortunately, i did this when i lived in the small town of winnetka.  by the time i was pulling into my driveway after my first meeting, i was getting phone calls from people who hadn’t been at the meeting but who knew every detail of my story, every tear i ever cried.  what part of anonymous doesn’t exist there?  and besides, aa has a fifteen percent success rate.

if a prescription drug for strep throat had a fifteen percent success rate would the federal drug commission approve it? would you take it? would you give it to your kid?

americans also love their first ladies–dolley madison, jackie kennedy, michele obama. . . and they like honesty.

betty ford, the wife of president gerald ford, was very “i don’t care who knows” about her struggles with alcohol and drug addiction. she opened the betty ford clinic for people with similar issues.  she passed on in 2011 and was one of the most popular first ladies of all time.

trouble is, the betty ford clinic approach (inpatient thirty days) is expensive, my insurance wouldn’t cover much of it, and my premiums would skyrocket.  besides, i didn’t think of myself as quite that bad off.

i stumbled upon a solution.  a drug that’s not generally sold in the united states.  does well in europe and asia–i guess french folks don’t go to meetings which might explain a lot about the european union.

the medicine is taken over the course of eight weeks.  like an ssri antidepressant (think prozac, zoloft, paxil), it works on the brain’s pleasure receptors.  it is meant to cut off the connection between chardonnay and a buzz.  it is, again like an antidepressant, not likely to make any difference for several weeks until a critical level has been dumped into the bloodstream.  unlike antidepressants which stop working once you stop taking them, this drug is supposed to be taken for eight weeks and then you stop.  i suspect the reason one stops at eight weeks is that one is supposed to develop good habits. and keep them.

the first night i took it i drank a martini for the first (and last) time. it was made for me by a facebook friend and i will share the recipe because it was just as good as breakup sex can ever be.

breakup sex martini

you’ll need:  fresh basil leaves, lemon, ice, shaker, vodka, running tap water

cut up and crush the basil leaves with the back of a spoon or a mortar and pestle if your kitchen is well equiped

cut lemon in half

put basil and ice in shaker.  squeeze lemon juice into shaker.   leave the seeds–it lends verisimilitude

add vodka and shake

pour into glasses

when your guest says “i’ve never had a martini.  it’s going to be too strong” retire to the kitchen, run the tap water (not into the glass, silly!) and say”this’ll be okay!

oh, did my head hurt the next day and i felt so discouraged.  i had no home.  my car was in the shop with bald tires and all my clothes.  i felt unmoored and full of self-loathing.  and i wondered if i was an alcoholic and should just resign myself to it.

founded in 1877, the pacific gardens mission in chicago has served homeless and lost souls. i felt like maybe i was lost. really lost. maybe they could help.

still, i dutifully took my medicine.  i went to a lady’s lunch.  the sort where there’s white wine and delicate salads and nobody eats their dessert.  ordinarily, i would have drank my wine, ordered a second glass and then another.  instead, i couldn’t finish the first glass.  i just didn’t want it.  i asked if i could switch to diet coke.

the next day i went to an funeral luncheon.  i started with a glass of white wine and again, said “i don’t really want to finish this”

at saturday dinner, i drank a glass with my meal and then after dinner ordered a glass but didn’t drink any. . .  even though i was paying for it.

does this mean the medicine works and i’m just an early responder to changes in brain chemistry?  i don’t know.  i will find out.  but i have noticed subtle minor tiny miracles that have made me so grateful.

i’m not identifying the drug.  because if it changes my brain chemistry so that i think i’m a dog and i start barking at postal workers, i don’t anyone else to have tried it because of me.  if it works, i’ll let you know.  if it doesn’t work, i just have to think of other options.

i don’t want to be a teetotaler, i don’t want to proselytize, i don’t want to stay in a clinic (unless they have wonderful room service!).  i just want to get to the place where i think i’m just pretty average.

i got the car back (and my clothes!) and aimed south to indianapolis to meet the three eastman sisters, two of whom (julie and susan) are my facebook friends. clare (far right) does not have a facebook account. neither does sophie the dog. i have many friends on facebook who are dogs and one cat.  facebook has been cracking down on accounts held by nonhumans–that is, businesses, spambots, animals, historical figures, and people who have duplicate accounts.

i aim south for louisville, kentucky–home of the colonels and the derby.  why?  to visit a facebook friend of course!  and this one needs a miracle just as badly as me!


an agoraphobic only has one panic attack —

i share a lot with f2fb friend #297 ann malone.  we both are in our fifties (although damnit, she’s three years older and looks ten years younger than me!) and we’ve both raised two sons.

i felt really depressed on valentine's day because i thought my younger son eastman (f2fb friend #1) had forgotten about me. then the fedex guy showed up with a mushy card from eastman--it featured puppies and little candy hearts and who can't tear up when they see the combination? this is a valentine's card i received from one of my newest facebook friends talib who is from iraq where valentine's day is not generally celebrated. i appreciated the beauty of this card and the effort that went into making it!

ann malone and i have been divorced and i think we both agree that our agoraphobia/panicattacks/anxiety contributed to that unhappy fact.  and we both can remember every detail of our first panic attack.

i was nineteen.  i was grocery shopping at the kroeger’s across the street from the police and fire station in naperville, illinois.  i was with my boyfriend keith.  i was wearing white pants, white shirt, a tie, and a dark blue vest.  i was carrying a backpack of books.  wait?  a tie?

my attire that day did not reflect anything about my gender identification. the 1977 movie "annie hall" starring woody allen and diane keaton influenced my fashion sense. so did the prices at the salvation army thrift shop where i bought my clothes.

i sat the window sill at the end of the cash register waiting for my boyfriend to complete his purchases.  i looked outside.  a furious thunderstorm was coming.  the thunderstorm made me think of anger–an angry mother, an angry universe, an angry God.  this is like death’s arrival, i thought and i turned to look at the paramedic and two firemen waiting in line to pay for their lunches.  “they can’t do anything to save me,”  i thought.

and suddenly, everything pressed in on me:  the imminence of death and destruction, the explosion of my heart, the oxygen being sucked out of lungs, lights and sound slamming against me.  too many things at once.  i stood up.  my legs were tingling with weakness.  this is death, i thought.

within a half hour, i was in edward’s hospital emergency room and a doctor was telling me i couldn’t possibly be having a heart attack.  you don’t know that, you don’t know that, i thought.  ann’s experience was a little different in details but the essence was exactly the same.

and what happened next?

today, we have the wonderful news that therapy, antidepresssants*, meditation, yoga**, natural remedies*** will the trick.  uh, well, sometimes that’s  true.  and sometimes a study comes out that says no way.  in any event, i was   diagnosed with mitral valve prolapse, asthma, severe allergies, lupus, depression, separation anxiety. . . in the end, therapy teaches you to rely on your therapist, drugs to depend on your dose, yoga and meditation to rely on your guru of the moment.  it’s a tough call as to what will set us free but ann and i both agree there is some truth to the adage that an agoraphobic only has one panic attack.  everything else is the anticipation or the avoidance of having another. . . .  she and i both avoided everything that might lead to a panic attack.  i have never stepped foot in the kroegers in naperville since that day thirty two years ago and frankly, i still don’t like jewell or osco or “big box” grocery shopping.
ann and i have both figured out what works for us, with the full knowledge that whatever we have cobbled together will fall apart and we’ll come up with new strategies.  i admire ann and i’m so glad she’s my facebook friend!  i got in the car, breathed deeply, and i aim further south to meet lionel richie.  at least i think i’m meeting lionel richie.  that’s what my next facebook friend’s profile picture looks like.  and nobody, but nobody, would put up a profile picture that wasn’t taken yesterday at the passport photo shop, right?

**http://www.nytimes.com/2012/01/08/magazine/how-yoga-can-wreck-your-body.html?pagewanted=all

***http://psychcentral.com/news/2010/04/07/natural-remedies-ineffective-for-anxiety/12656.html