I managed to go an entire month without a migraine before I stopped taking the Risperidone. But once the withdraw started and then the readjustment, the migraines returned with a vengeance! I have been having one every 5-6 days for a month now.
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I am finally out of fight or flight. Over the last three days I have not had any of the heart racing, pulse pounding, I need to tear off my skin to protect myself nonsense that I have been living with for so long. Sometimes I will catch myself just sitting quietly on the couch, reading or answering a text and I’m like, it’s okay now. I feel safe.
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Risperidone withdrawal readjustment is awful. I have been back on it for several weeks now, who knows exactly how long? I am still not feeling back to any kind of normal. The fight or flight is gone, thankfully, but no longer feeling like I have to defend myself from imminent attack is hardly a bar I want to set.
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After having all of these health issues for so long, I now have stomach flu. It must have picked me off like wounded gazelle because I was already having so many problems. It’s just rude, you know?
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Finally figured out what has been bugging me for a while and figured out what’s going on (probably). Basically, my vagus nerve is a lazy piece of shit and even though my sinus surgery fixed the cause of my pretty extensive vagus nerve dysfunction, it refuses to act like the last 10 years didn’t happen and just snap out of it.
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I read The Good Body by Eve Ensler in college and I desperately yearned for the kind of self-acceptance it modeled. But I wasn’t there yet. But I got there eventually. As equal parts apology, acknowledgement, and wonder, I want to say a few things about my body. All of them are way overdue.
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Risperidone withdrawal (and readjustment) comes in “waves and windows.” Windows of feeling okay, waves of feeling like wet trash on a hot day. The idea is as you finish the withdrawal or readjust, that the windows become longer and longer and waves become less severe. So I’m having a good day today and I feel like a human being. Yay!
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I haven’t been writing poetry lately. Or really, much of anything. For the last four-ish years I have been writing on occasion, but nothing I am supremely happy with and everything I produced seemed to feel… different somehow. Not as powerful. Not as passionate. Some kind of watered down, mealy mouthed collection of niceties where the subject matter was literally no longer life or death.
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But then I went to visit my mom’s side of the family, the last time I ever did, and was kicked out of Thanksgiving. I came into that therapy session charged up and ready to unpack my what had happened. The psychologist brushed it off and kept returning to the topic of vegetables and how I needed to eat more of them.
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Have you ever been at the doctor’s and you tell them what your previous doctor told you to do and they can’t even hide their surprise and horror? I wish I didn’t. Let me tell you.
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One of the most constant aspects of my existence in fight or flight is having days when I am running on sheer adrenaline and my heart is pounding out of my chest. It feels like anxiety sometimes, it keeps me awake other times. Sometimes I am convinced I actually am having a heart attack and my ghost will return nightly to brag about finally being right.
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I have had so much time off work, but I only feel slightly better. I am still struggling cognitively, trying to keep up with simple tasks is difficult, and to the person who suggested I was on a prolonged vacation, I would rather be in prison. At least I wouldn’t have to cook there.
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