Cold Turkey

What kind of moron quits anything cold turkey?

Oh, that's right. The kind of moron I am.  I don't remember my reasoning at this point.  I'm sure there was a good one.  It's long gone in the fog by now.  I was taking effexor for my anxiety and depression, and now I'm not.  Nausea.  Shakes.  My nerves feel like they've all been rubbed raw with sandpaper.  OH MY GOD MAKE IT STOP NOW PLEASE okay next breath not so bad.  If people even fight through a little bit of this with -oh boy, here come the crazy sweats- quitting smoking I can totally understand why they would stick with the cancer sticks.  Given my druthers I'd go back to those shitty little pills.  They're fucking awful for you, but wow, they're better than this.  I'm really loving the electric-shock thing.  That's really the perfect way to describe it. 

It's like someone is shoving your finger in an electrical socket. Every ten five or thirty seconds.  Bzzt.  Nauseous, trying not to puke and there it goes again, bzzt.  THIS IS FUCKING AWFUL okay sorry, it's so hard to keep myself focused. 

But even that isn't too awful for me.  My worst enemy is the nausea.  I hate nausea. I don't like feeling pukey (which is why my pregnancies [bzzt] were nightmares),  I hate vomiting, I will avoid them at all costs.  Hard to avoid when being alive seems to be the cause.  Okay, I know it is my stupid body's stupid dependency on this stupid [bzzt] drug (and holy shit why are we even still letting it be used? I have a one year old and a three year old.  I do my best to keep us on a schedule, but life gets in the way.  Getting nauseous and feeling this brain-[bzzt]shock because I didn't have time to take my medicine and had to wait a few hours is just freaking crazy.  Three hours shouldn't be a big deal!)  but I tend to exaggerate when I'm upset and OH MY GOD I'M SO UPSET RIGHT NOW.  You try feeling like this and not being upset.

Upside?  I have better [bzzt] control of my emotions OFF EFFEXOR than I ever did on it.  Feeling ragey because of withdrawal?  Feeling like screaming obscenities because someone blinked at you wrong?  Completely under control.  I always felt like I was toeing the line with my emotional control.  Like I was one frayed thread away from bursting into tears [bzzt] or going off on a rage-fueled murder spree or whatever.  Without it, and deep in withdrawal, my first impulse may be to be angry and scream obscenities at Husband because he has ugly feet (and boy, does he), but compared to the way I felt when I was on the [bzzt] medication, it's almost ridiculously easy to just pull those words back from the ledge and stuff them somewhere in the electrified recesses of my deranged mind. 

I was going to lay out what exactly is wrong with me that I might need medicine, and explain my reasoning (ha, I tried to type seasoning, that's apparently only funny because I'm [bzzt] yeah okay never mind) for quitting, but coherent thought is too far out of reach today.

Priorities

Some people have no idea how to prioritize.  My mother is great when it comes to her own life.  She makes sure to eat healthy, get enough sleep, exercise; she's always at least on time, and usually early; she is the queen of organization.  Outside of herself, she hasn't got a clue.  She's decided that I need to be "fixed", that is, that I have an abundance of problems and that she is exactly the person to clear all of them up.  This is wrong on many levels.
First, people don't change unless they want to (and right along with that goes the more you push the more most people dig in their heels to resist).
Secondly, she knows what is wrong with me, but she's decided that I don't know myself as well as she knows me, so I'm wrong about all my problems and all I have to do is whatever she says. 
Third, she seems to be clueless about what problems are big, and what problems are small.

Lately, she's decided that I have ADHD.  That's probably the one thing I don't have.  I have Social Anxiety Disorder with a little bit of Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder and Generalized Anxiety Disorder tossed in for good measure.  She thinks that because I can't sit still that I must have ADHD and that's what needs to be fixed.  No, mom.  I can't sit still because I'm obsessing over all the bad things that could be happening right now.  I have to check on everything because I'm terrified something will go wrong.
And while she looks in the wrong direction to solve my problems, I'm exhibiting self-mutilating behaviors (sometimes known as "cutting" or trichotillomania [pulling one's hair out], depending on what type of mutilation is occurring).  The soles of my feet look like they're being run through a cheese grater and she's busy worrying that I don't sit still often enough. 

I sound ungrateful.  I'm glad I have a mother who loves me and wants to make everything better for me, but how can she look at me and not see me at all?