Me the Junkie. Legally of course.

Well. Turkey Day is over and the madness of Christmas begins. Yes, bah humbug is back.  I will save my Christmas gripe for another day.

I spent about 5 hours in the kitchen cooking my first Thanksgiving dinner.  I made all the traditional meals:

Mashed potatoes – from scratch

Gravy which turned out to be quite an iffy thing (note – never add wine to gravy #marthafail)

Stuffing – too much sage but still came out okay

Turkey – perfecto! (The secret is brining the turkey overnight…thanks Martha Stewart!)

Mixed veggies – no biggie

Sweet Hawaiian Rolls – courtesy Walmart

And glasses and glasses and glasses of Robert Mondavi Pinot Noir

For dessert we “made” scout pastry with apple filling, topped with chocolate and vanilla ice cream.  Yum!

I had a five day holiday from Wednesday to Sunday.  It was a much deserved break but by Friday I was going stir crazy.  By Saturday I was having withdrawals.

Lemme explain.

I take my Cymbalta every morning after I shower, brush my teeth and have my first cup of coffee.  During work weeks, this is quite easy to remember.  On weekends, I have to remind myself to take my meds.  The five-day holiday threw my schedule off.  I woke up late on Wednesday and forgot to take my meds.  On Thursday I was too busy and hen-pecked with turkey-worry to remember either.  By Friday, pills had skipped my mind.  I was not in pain at all so I figured I would be fine. Besides, I could save a bit of money too by skipping a day here and there.

On Saturday I started cramping, vomiting, sweating and shaking.  I thought I had food poisoning.  I managed to do some chores between bathroom breaks and cold showers. I managed to cheer Michigan as they beat Ohio State for the first time in eight years.  I managed to cook us lunch and fold some laundry.  I changed clothes six times. I could not stop sweating.

I curled up in a fetal position in the bathroom crying and just telling myself it would pass.  Later that night in bed, I lay awake and tried to ignore the brain zaps going on in my head.  I heard sounds that I normally would not hear.  The whirr of the fan sounded like a chopper. The hum of the refrigerator sounded like eighteen wheelers were passing by in one large unending caravan. The drops of rain outside sounded like people tapping their feet.  I heard voices and people talking.  I was afraid to close my eyes.  I was afraid my heart would stop.  I was afraid I would have a seizure.

“It is not real,” I had to keep saying over and over.  I almost went to the ER on Sunday night.

When I woke up on Monday, still feeling like shit, I showered, brushed my teeth and then proceeded to take my —-

That was when I realized all the while I thought I ate something bad, my body had been going through withdrawal.  And mentally kicked myself because I knew it was dangerous to stop taking anti-depressants suddenly.  Although I felt great and was not in pain, I was still physiologically dependent on my medication.  I talked to my doctor late last night and he assured me I would be back to normal in a few days.  The worst was over.  I have learned my lesson. Don’t fuck with pharmaceutical companies. They may not sell you coke or heroin, but that does not mean they can’t make a junkie out of you.