I’ve been taking Emsam, an MAOI antidepressant, for a few days now, and although I can’t say that I feel amazing, I think I do feel better than I did before I started. The two weeks between ending Wellbutrin and starting Emsam were a struggle, but hopefully will be worth it.
Emsam comes as a patch that you wear for 24 hours and then replace with a new one. It’s an adjustment to not just plop some additional pills into my organizer for the week. It’s ever-so-slightly more labor-intensive this way, but I think it has been easier for me to accept than previous medicine changes have been. I have some kind of hang-up about pills and how many I need, so adding a new one always upsets me. Even though Emsam is a new antidepressant for me, it seems to have bypassed my usual judgments by virtue of being a patch. Perhaps my inner critic is secretly a child placated by cool stickers.
I’m noticing some insomnia, but nothing horrible. In fact, the napping that had returned when I stopped Wellbutrin has been reduced again. Sometimes I still attempt to take a nap because, well, my napping problem is partly fatigue, partly escapism. So even though I still try to pass a few hours by sleeping, it hasn’t been working since the introduction of Emsam.
As a result, I’ve been doing a lot of yardwork. The dandelions are quickly taking over the backyard. Luckily, endlessly repetitive tasks are my jam. I’m digging them up one by one, a byproduct of which is some unintended soil aeration! I also took down all of the rabbit fencing that I used to make our backyard fence taller because Stella was jumping it last summer. That solution did not work for long.
In fact, she jumped a six-foot-tall fence in pursuit of a squirrel the other day, so there really is no containing her unless she’s on a strong tether. Might as well get rid of the unsightly fence addition. She causes me so much anxiety sometimes, but she’s still a wonderful dog.
Historically, I’ve been mean to myself about napping because I tell myself I should be doing something productive with that time. Now that I’m not napping (pretty much), I have lots of time to get stuff done. And I’m still mean to myself. What a surprise.
In sporadic bursts, I’ve been searching for a new job for a while. I’ll get started on it, saving postings, updating things, applying to a few here and there, but not really dedicating myself to it because my current job is “ok.” I know that I’m avoiding it. It used to be that I’d be mad at myself for wasting time by napping. Now that I’m not napping, I’m mad at myself for STILL not tackling it, despite having plenty of time as a conscious person. Then again, it’s only been a few days since I started Emsam, and perhaps it will make things easier with some more time.
I’m attempting to heed my therapist’s advice about how a gentler approach is more effective and that no, you won’t become a stagnant blob of disappointment if you stop beating yourself up about your perceived lack of progress. I’m unconvinced, but I’m trying.
A week ago, I stopped taking Wellbutrin so that I can try Emsam, an MAOI. (I have to wait two weeks between ending Wellbutrin and beginning the MAOI.) I think it was good timing that my most recent ketamine infusion was around the same time I stopped taking Wellbutrin because I’m already feeling pretty terrible. I have the sense that without it, this change might have been even more abruptly bad. Maybe it’s a good setup for when Emsam just blows my mood out of the water, right? A nice contrast will really emphasize its effectiveness. One can hope.
It’s safe to say that Wellbutrin was holding my hypersomnia at bay, and now that I’m not taking it, I’m basically a koala. (They sleep 18-22 hours per day, and not because they’re high on eucalyptus – they’re just dedicating lots of energy to digestion.) It would be great if I could selectively dedicate all the energy I save by sleeping to something else, like hair growth. I could be a brunette Rapunzel in no time.
It is endlessly disappointing to me that I can’t seem to function very well without antidepressants. You’d think I would have accepted it by now. And yet, every single time I change one of my medications and experience a sudden worsening of my depression, I get all upset with myself for not being able to handle it.
I considered this move for a while. SSRIs and SNRIs haven’t helped me much, so branching out to an MAOI seems worth a try. Wellbutrin was clearly helping, particularly in the motivation department, but it was still less impactful than I had hoped. Eventually, I decided that giving up the motivation that Wellbutrin gives me in the hopes that Emsam will help me even more is worth it. It does kind of suck that I can’t go directly from one to the other, though. Two weeks sans antidepressant is proving to be challenging.
A big part of me wanted to just leave things the same and continue to try to build on the benefits of Wellbutrin through my own “natural” efforts. Something that I wrestle with constantly is my uncertainty around what I should expect of myself. It never seems right to say, “I can’t do X because of depression,” because it pains me to be limited by my own brain. So, I continue to struggle far below meeting my perfectionistic standards for myself and then am crushed when “I can’t do X because of depression” turns out to be somewhat true. I never allow myself any grace when depression slows me down.
So, in the end, I’m feebly trying to convince myself that trying yet another medication is fine because if I could have worked my way out of depression by now, I would have. It’s important to do the work I can do day-to-day. But, as anyone with depression knows, it’s tough to do the things that you know are good for your mental health when your mental illness won’t get out of your way. Not impossible! Don’t get me wrong, I’ve been exercising, keeping up with my job, trying to eat 3 meals a day – the works. But that can only get me so far, and most of it tends to fizzle out when I’m in a mental place like this.
I felt okay on Wellbutrin, but ideally, I don’t want to settle for okay. But if Emsam doesn’t work out, it is nice to know that Wellbutrin is something I could return to. For now, I’ll just keep working on my Rapunzel hair and waiting for Wednesday of next week, when I can begin my MAOI experiment.
My last ketamine infusion was much less trippy than the previous one, so I’m relieved to say that I remember absolutely none of it. Much less fun to describe, but also less persistently, somewhat threateningly bizarre. We skipped the magnesium this time, and I did not have any sudden, limb-jerking spasms. It’s good to know that was likely the culprit. When I can’t remember an infusion, I feel pretty curious about the off-putting gap in my memory. I always think it’s interesting to know what I experienced during a ketamine infusion, and when I can’t, I feel like I’m missing out on something that I just can’t access. Thankfully, the benefits of ketamine for treatment-resistant depression remain even when I can’t remember them.
I’ve been having some problems with nausea and appetite since starting Wellbutrin. They mimic what I feel when I’m really depressed, just amplified. Food is not appealing, neither in my imagination nor my mouth. When it’s time to eat, my goal is to find something that’s least unappetizing. Eating it is a strangely empty experience, as if I can recognize the flavors but can’t assemble them into something I like. The closest analogy I can think of is that it’s like the difference between sound and music. For a few days following a ketamine infusion, that problem is gone. It’s easy to pick something to eat, and not only does it register as, say, a grilled cheese sandwich, but my brain is also willing to exchange it for dopamine. Things taste like how food should taste, and it’s great.
Ketamine makes the days following an infusion feel remarkably lighter. The difficulty I have with making even small decisions is much improved. I just go about my days without getting stuck at every turn. Speaking of turns, I’ve really been enjoying my morning walks with Stella. When we come to an intersection, I let her choose, and we amble around a ridiculously inefficient route that’s different each day. I am typically a very routine-driven person, so this microscopic spontaneity is a teeny, tiny sign that says “ketamine helped!” If the ketamine wears off or some other factor occurs and my depression gets worse, I tend to become more rigid in the route we take. I’m sure Stella prefers our ketamine-lightened walks, and so do I.
Thinking about the Future
The bigger benefits of ketamine for treatment-resistant depression, for me, are centered around my attitudes about the future. Depression makes me feel hopeless, and ketamine lifts that – sometimes just a little, but sometimes a lot. I’m not sure what determines the degree of helpfulness, but it’s always a welcome effect. It makes it easier to imagine myself making changes and taking big steps.
Other benefits of ketamine for treatment-resistant depression that I notice include:
Feeling more social
Experiencing something called “fun”
Feeling satisfied about completing a task
Noticing little things that I appreciate or find interesting
Reduced suicidal thoughts (hasn’t been much of a problem recently, but I’ve definitely noticed that in the past)
Lately, I’ve noticed that the most noticeable changes stick around for a few days or a week, then things level off to a pretty neutral place where I’m neither jazzed about life nor am I in the pits of despair. By three weeks, I’m in something like the salt marshes of despondency; not inescapable, but pretty unpleasant.
That is a completely individualized timeline. Everyone is different, and I get the feeling from the forum I’m on that there are a lot of people who go much longer between needing ketamine infusions. I kind of try not to think about it because of what they say about comparison, I guess. (They = various quotes)
Musings about Medication
My medications may change again sometime soon, and although I just said that getting ketamine infusions for depression makes making decisions easier for me, I’m setting that choice aside for now. It’s harder to decide soon after an infusion because I feel like I don’t need to change anything. I feel better, therefore, I should keep things the same. But, ketamine wears off at some point, and even though I feel “better,” should I stop at that point? Maybe I only feel a fraction of my potential “better” but it seems like a lot because it’s better than abysmal. These choices are always hard. I don’t want to settle for just ok, but I worry that I’m expecting too much. Maybe this is exactly how happy people feel – they’re just more grateful for it.
But then a couple of weeks pass and I slowly start sliding backwards into napping and apathy and isolation, and I realize that there was no in-between. It was mildly happy and then increasingly depressed. There must be something more than that. I habitually blame myself for depression in the short term. A bad day or week makes me think that I let myself wallow and didn’t try to change things. I think that I’m lazy and burdensome and why can’t I just be cheerful? But when I look at the long-term – the years I’ve spent with depression – I feel kind of robbed. It’s easier to see the trends of it and the forks in the road where I didn’t pick the option the non-depressed me would have chosen. I may try to blame myself for all of that too, but the more reasonable answer is that depression has been in my way. Sometimes, that perspective makes me determined, and all of the other times, it makes me tired.
My last few months have been saturated with medication changes and mood fluctuations. I go up and down, up and down, and I’m thankful for the ups, but there’s something about the downs that feels so much more impactful. Despite the incremental progress I’m making after starting Wellbutrin, I feel completely insecure in that success, like it’s just visiting and will have to leave soon. A large part of me says that would be disastrous and I’ll just have to claw my way forward from here on out because losing ground would be unacceptable. I guess we’ll find out.
My mental health has once again taken a turn in a not-fun direction, which I attribute to some recent medication changes. So, instead of sitting here thinking, I should write something. I can’t think of anything to write, and then putting down anything I do write as being the worst drivel ever to appear on my screen, I’m going to take you on a little diversion.
Did you know that an elephant’s sense of smell is twice as strong as that of a bloodhound’s? (C, that documentary led me astray. Google says twice, not four times.) This is what I said to my therapist the other day in one of my many futile attempts to distract from the topic at hand. We’ve also discussed, among other things, a documentary I watched called “Octopus Volcano,” how scallops have eyes, and what “horse” is in ASL. Usually, when I share a fun fact like this, there’s a brief exchange, and then she goes, “Well, that used up about a minute and a half.” And then we’re back where we started, just a little more entertained. This time, I think we probably used up, like, at least three minutes with the elephant fact. It may have been the most productive time-wasting fact I’ve ever pulled out of my sleeve. We got going on a train of thought that I think has some incredible real-world promise.
Just imagine: search and rescue ELEPHANTS. The police force brings out the specially trained sniffer elephants in super-wide trailers. They step down, decked out in vests that say “DO NOT PET. I’M WORKING,” but the vests are really just tarps secured around their bellies with bungee cords because the elephant service vest market just isn’t there yet. Soon, they’re working in airports, sniffing for bombs and drugs. All floors have widened stairs and elephant-safe ramps, and next to the dog relief areas are rooms with piles of dirt for the pachyderms to toss over their backs. Retired sniffer elephants spend their golden years relaxing with their family herd with frequent visits from their old handlers, revered as heroes for their invaluable contributions. I think we’re on to something, here.
Is this a breakthrough? Did I have a breakthrough in therapy?! Yeah, yeah, it’s not about me, but a striking realization is a striking realization. Elephants are the next sniffer dogs. Maybe they’re not as motivated to please humans, and they do need to eat a tremendous amount of foliage as they travel great distances throughout the day, but I think those problems could be overcome with some creativity. There really is no limit to what you can take away from therapy.
Non-sequitur segue! Other problems that can probably be overcome include my current difficulties with changing my clothes and eating and getting work done and my general depression problems. Titrating down on an antidepressant can be tricky. I’m trying to figure out whether this dip in my mood is because this antidepressant was helping me more than I thought it was, regular old withdrawal, ketamine wearing off, or any number of other variables. I suppose time will tell. Let’s persist in our efforts to overcome wacky, theoretical elephant scenarios and the challenges of living life.
P.S. Good luck to the Google algorithm in trying to figure out what the heck this post is about. 🙂
It’s come to my attention that my depression medication doesn’t seem to be doing much. IV ketamine infusions are also doing less than they used to, unless it’s the case they they’re doing just as much but my brain is kicking its level of stubbornness up a few notches. Who’s to say what the cause is? Maybe it’s just the curse of 2020.
I got sidetracked. The point of this post is this: I’m about to start taking Wellbutrin, a medication that I tried a few years ago and really liked. I was only on it for about a week, though, because I promptly broke out in a blotchy rash that spread from my chest, up my neck, and all over my face.
It seemed like a cruel joke played on me by the universe. The only oral antidepressant I’d ever tried that made a sudden, discernable difference in my depression is one that I’m allergic to.
Cut to now – I’m once again finding myself floundering in the soupy mashed potatoes of my depressed brain, looking for some way to change things. I’ve always carried a little bit of disappointment about my failed Wellbutrin trial, especially because I was taking the generic at the time. What if I wouldn’t have a reaction to the brand name version? Would it be stupid to try?
You know those prescription medication commercials that include a disclaimer like “Don’t take [name of drug] if you’re allergic to [name of drug],” and you’re like “Well, DUH?” I am now the person that those disclaimers target. To me, the risk of an allergic reaction is worth the potential benefit of taking Wellbutrin. I think it’s telling that when faced with the possibility of a rash, swelling, even anaphylaxis (unlikely), my reaction is “sign me up.”
I remember being so amazed at how motivated Wellbutrin made me feel. It was the only oral depression medication that’s ever given me that “I didn’t fully realize how depressed I was until I wasn’t” feeling. I was in my last semester of college when I took it. By that point, I had tried several medications and was struggling to get through the last few months before graduation. I was over the moon when I realized that Wellbutrin was working for me. It was SO much easier to get my work done and interact with people, even just for the few days that I was on it. When I got the rash, I stopped taking it abruptly, and the sudden changes did not do good things to my mental health. I had already been utterly overwhelmed by classwork and worn down by the near-constant suicidal thoughts that had plagued me for over a year. I canceled my trip home for spring break because I wanted to be alone, and I reluctantly started yet another combo of meds. I just remember the whole thing being bitterly disappointing. It was like Wellbutrin had swooped in, showed me how much easier everything could be, and then ditched me with the gift of an itchy, burning rash after just a few days.
So, I’ll take the chance of a rash if it means I might feel better. That said, if I let myself get too hopeful and the result is a letdown, I know I would feel incredibly defeated. I’m trying to temper my expectations. If I get a rash or if it doesn’t work, at least I’ll finally know for sure if it’s an option for me. I’ll write an update soon.
I can’t believe it’s been a month since I last posted here. I have some in-progress posts that are languishing in my drafts folder, but none of them feel complete enough to be posted. So, to try to break through the stall in my writing, this is a rambling update that will have to be good enough for me.
Look at me, fighting perfectionism one disjointed blog post at a time.
I haven’t written about my most recent ketamine infusions because the propofol makes it harder to find anything about them to share. I think that going into it with the expectation that I won’t remember much makes it harder to grasp whatever snippets do remain. Having the intention to write about an infusion helps me pay attention to my experience; without it, the whole appointment just disappears from my memory in the hours following an infusion.
When I began my treatment with ketamine infusions, I was fascinated by the endless imagery that each infusion created. Every appointment held new associations and interesting scenes. But lately, they all feel the same. Of course, this is okay. The dose of ketamine that I receive would probably be too intense without the propofol, and I suppose I’d rather not remember much than have a terrifying trip. Still, there was something helpful about having something of the experience to hold onto.
I have the sense that I’m more able to remember things when I’m more present in the real world – like how you remember your dreams when you awaken in the middle of them. I wonder if the degree to which you’re aware of your surroundings during a ketamine infusion impacts its efficacy, if at all. Because if it’s not at all, I’d totally ask my doctor to poke me every 15 minutes and ask me what I’m thinking about so that he can write down whatever absurd, hilarious things I say. Although, my level of zonk is usually such that I probably wouldn’t answer.
My birthday happened this month, and it caused a lot of anxiety about the future. It’s frustrating to be hindered by my own brain. I commonly hold myself to unrealistic expectations and judge myself harshly for not meeting them. I wanted a different path than the one I’m on now, and I’m having a hard time letting go of that vision. Not that I can’t eventually end up in the same place, but I didn’t see it progressing along such a challenging path. But that’s life, right? I’ve been trying to re-frame my birthday as just another marker of survival. If I can’t get myself to be pleased with my progress in the last year, I can at least be neutral.
Anxiety and depression often go together, and I’ve noticed a pattern in my mental health where I alternate between the two. As I start to come out of depression, the anxiety kicks in and I feel horrified by all of the time I “wasted”. I think about how far behind my expectations I am, and then I get a frantic sense of urgency to kick it into high gear. Unfortunately, I’m also easily overwhelmed and the prospect of “catching up” to my expectations triggers an avalanche of worries and insecurities. Ultimately, whether it’s depression or anxiety that is most immediately at hand, the result is still a barrier to my forward movement.
This flexible connection between depression and anxiety is not black and white. I wouldn’t say that I move completely out of depression and into anxiety – the Venn diagram has more overlap than that. My position within it just shifts into the middle so that I’m simultaneously slow, tired, and occasionally hopeless while also filling up with anxiety saturated with heavy judgement. Fun times.
At least the anxiety pushes me to do more than I otherwise would. I would rather be motivated by the reward of doing the thing rather than the fear of not doing the thing, but I also prefer being motivated at all over not at all (if that makes sense). I’ve been trying to run again, and have been somewhat successful in the last couple of weeks. The wildfire smoke in Colorado has intermittently lifted and returned, so I don’t always get clear air, but I figure the benefit to my mental health probably outweighs the damage.
This is kind of a rambling post, but again, I can’t seem to write anything in this context that seems worthy of posting. So, this will have to do. In other news, this is not my kitten, but look at how cute she is.
You would think I had learned my lesson. Refilling my medicines is not something I find easy to do if a phone call is involved. I waited until the very end of my supply to refill my Deplin, and now, because of shipping delays, I’ve been without for several days. Deplin contains l-methylfolate, which fills a metabolic gap caused by a mutation in the MTHFR gene. Essentially, it helps my antidepressant work. Not taking my Deplin is what pushed my suicidality to new lows last year when I was hospitalized. It seems like I can feel my brain slowing down. I sleep all day like I’m hibernating in reverse by starting in spring. There is nothing to get me up except the dog, who stands by my bed and huffs at me, threatening to wake me with a full bark if I do not move. I accomplish the necessary and return to bed, already sinking into sleep. The occasional diversion brings some welcome entertainment, but it’s just a momentary distraction.
I took some time off of work when my grandfather passed away last week, but then I decided it would be more helpful to have something to do. So, I went back to work (which I thankfully do from home under normal circumstances) on Monday. Unfortunately, it’s shaping up to be a slow week, anyway. I suppose I should turn to hobbies to fill my time. I’m partway through a drawing that I promised to someone, but like many of us judging ourselves for not utilizing all of this time to finish household projects or write a sonnet or whatever we think we should be doing, motivation eludes me.
My shipment of Deplin is finally at my local post office and should be delivered by the end of the day today. It couldn’t come too soon. I plan to rip it open right there at the mailbox and throw one down the hatch. Well, okay, maybe I’ll go inside for a glass of water.