 Re: Wellbutrin & Depakote
Well, you asked for it. I've been working on this for many hours. I wish I didn't: It's brough a lot of stuff that I've worked hard to supress to the top.
Despite efforts, this is a long one of a long one [took up 7 pages in Word!].
I have a deep seated feeling that I am really letting more of my personal business air out in public than is good for me.
I posted the story once before, it is more suited for public consumption.
Seeing as I spent so much time and put myself though so much, I will post what I have.
Read it now: I may very well yank it soon or if I find the other one.
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As is well known by now [I should think], I'm bi-polar - very.
At that time, close to 10 years ago, I also still had a bad temper with a hair trigger [not to mention one big chip on my shoulder].
I also was in the first couple of years of constant severe pain. Not being used to it yet, it tended to crank up the level of anger I would have, and make me even quicker to snap.
All of that on top of an emotional roller coaster that could go from one extreme to the other in minutes and back.
Again, and again, and again.
Of course I didn't see anything wrong [normal is whatever your point of view is, usually]. Those around me, my wife mostly, did notice [shit, how could she miss? She was the focus of my temper more than anything].
Once my wife got some friends to convince me there was a problem and to do something about it, I went to see the Idiot f**king Doctors of Kaiser, who thought I was clinically depressed [as opposed to manic], and started to treat me for such.
The treatment was minimal; they totally blew off the anger, saying it was all due to the pain I was in [and why don't I go across the street - to the dept. of internal medicine - were they can write me a script for 600mg Motrin�s to take care of my pain, they said].
The rest of the treatment? They gave me a script for 60 days worth of Zoloft, and said that I should feel it taking effect in a couple of weeks. If after 30 days I felt no change I was to return so they could try a different drug.
That was it. They sent me on my merry way with a time bomb in my wallet.
So I started on it. It was also this point in time when I had decided that I was never going to get the help for pain that I needed, and started to self medicate [i.e.: I was getting pain pills when ever and where ever I could, still trying to see which would work, which wouldn't, etc. I had soma, valium, Xanix, misc. opiates [yes, I said opiates], 800mg Motrin�s, various other NASIDs, and some other shit. It wasn�t like I was popping them all the time in any and all combinations. Like I said, the pain thing was still new and wasn�t all that bad � compared to now, but I didn�t see it like that then.
After about three weeks the Zoloft did start having an effect: it was making an exponential increase in my instability and my temper.
[A little side note about my temper and stuff. Even though it was quick and sever, it was still what I call �controlled rage�. That is no matter how bad it got I never did things I later regretted: I would grab and smash things; but never anything of value. Bust records, but never a rare one. even with fights with my wife, which normally didn�t involve my temper much. See I could always find and push my wife�s buttons which made her more and more angry. That was made worse by the fact that no matter how hard she tried she couldn�t find any of my buttons to push [I wouldn�t give her the satisfaction].
Quite often she would get so frustrated she�d start to take swings at me. Now I�d told her over and over to keep fights verbal, not physical, but also told her that if she made it physical I would return it in my way of such things [when I retaliate, I go for like 10 times over what was done to me. The idea behind it is that if the person knows they�re going to get 10 times worse � no matter what they do � they would think twice before acting against me].
Most of the time when she would swing on me � she hardly ever connected [I would dodge most throws]. But, on those occasions she did connect it was usually a decent clip in the head or face [my wife�s no weakling]. And when it did happen I lost my temper. I would come back at her 10 times worse.
Now before I start getting hate mail for being a wife beater continue reading; even in these cases it was still that �controlled rage�: I never hit her in the face, or anywhere except on her arm. Her arm, though, would always have a 2 to 3� bruise, which was usually enough to keep her from doing that again for a long time.
Maybe it�s still not too cool that I did that, but at least I could limit myself to that � and it was after getting socked in the face myself: don�t bloody try to judge me damnit. [One other thing about our fights: until near the end of the marriage, we almost never fought in front of our daughter].
Well one night we got into it � I don�t know what about now, but it just got worse and worse. I was starting to lose my temper, at a point I never would have before Zoloft. As usual she tried to find a button to push to get me to react, like I was doing to her. This time she was having some minor successes, which only fed my anger.
We got so loud we woke up our daughter who came out to see what was going on. We were both to involved to do more than note the fact [and tell her to back to bed, which she didn�t; she went as far as the living room.
It got to where my wife started to swing on me, scoring an immediate couple of grazing hits to the side of my head [caught me off guard she did]. To my credit I realized that I was on the verge of losing control � could actually see myself going past �controlled rage� into untested areas. I tried warning her that she better back off; that I was going to snap, and snap really bad.
That actually fed the twisted bitch! And she redoubled her efforts. So I started swinging back [still only going for the arm]. All the while our shouting was getting worse and louder. This brought our daughter back in only to see her mommy & daddy punching each other;. Not surprising, she started to scream. Scream at my wife � to stop hitting daddy; to me to stop hitting mommy, and just screaming in general.
That got the attention of our friend a couple of doors down [that�s how loud we all were]. They had heard me and my wife for a while but didn�t think much about it; it was a fairly common occurrence and always came to nothing � before. But when they heard Alchemy [our daughter] screaming � and screaming like she was being tortured [our friends told me later]. So they headed over to see what was going on.
At the same time [or near abouts] some other neighbor, fed up with noise again, called the police.
The friends had damn good timing: Just before they got there, my wife finally found my button and pushed � hard. The various pills I had been collecting for the pain, along with all of my other drug utensils and other such stuff I had kept in this plastic toolbox type thing [you know, with the trey with compartments and such, just the thing for someone who was slightly obsessive compulsive, like me, not to mention a bit anal about such things]. Everyone who knew me well enough to know about the box also knew you don�t touch the box, that included my wife too.
I was already on the verge of a major snap, when my wife picks up the drug box and hurls it at my head; hitting me square between the eyes [it was one of the few times I was caught totally off guard]. I remember feeling a sharp pain in my neck [above the pain already there] from trying to move my head out of the way with a neck that was already more than half fused so it didn�t want to move. I felt the anger rise as an almost physical sensation. Then I saw black/things went black: This too, is literal and no exaggeration, it was like my eye sight faded to absolute black. And that�s the last thing I remember for the next hour or so. What comes next is pieced together from what my friends saw as they came in and what they told me of what my wife told them.
I stood there, a kind of blank or empty look. Thinking it was over, since I didn�t retaliate right away as usually did, my wife turned to leave the room. As she neared me to pass to leave the room she said my face order went from the blank expression to a look of pure murder [well, that�s how my wife explained it to my friends and the police. Personally, I think she was exaggerating, though I�m pretty sure it was at least a look of intense anger, maybe even hate].
As she passed I jumped her, I mean I launched myself at her, knocking us both to the floor. I slapped her pretty hard � this time in the face [at least it was open handed; one small thing I guess]. This is when the friends came in the front of the house [we were in the back room]. My daughter ran to them crying and saying �My Daddy is hurting/killing my Mommy� � It was �hurting� or �killing�, depending which friend you ask. My daughter, only three at the time so doesn�t remember what she said [I personally don�t think a three year old would have the concept of �killing� but would of �hurting�; of course I could be telling myself that to lessen the guilt I still feel over the whole thing and what it did to her � and, yes, my wife, to].
Alchemy has since blocked out almost all memories of that time, which in a way sucks because that was her whole time with me; after my wife took her to North Carolina. I didn�t even get to talk to her for over a year, or see her for three. I still only get 5 days a year or so, and never by myself � only when she�s visiting my parents in L.A. . That�s a whole other story
Whatever Ali said, they got the gist, plus they hear. The back room was a straight line from the front door, so they could see into the room; they could see that I had her pinned to the floor. These folks had know us for years; they knew we had our fights � some even a tad physical. They also knew that neither of us would really hurt the other so they still weren�t overly concerned seeing us like that. I wish I could have seen their faces when the finally got back there and saw what was really going on; it must have been a one of those classic looks of disbelief/surprise.
Because what they saw when they got back there wasn�t just me on top pinning my wife. It wasn�t even me on top slapping her. Nope. It was me pinning her down, with both hand firmly gripping her throat; shaking and choking her for all I was worth. I�d rather not go any further with what they saw. Not only is it something I have to live with until I die, but I still am haunted by the thoughts of what could have happened if my friends didn�t come over, or even came just minutes later than they did.
I mean, think about it; can you think of point in your life where the events of a single 5 minute slice of time could so drastically change the course of your future?
Actually, no don�t think about it; it�s not a pleasant mental exercise. It�s one reason I have no desire to take acid anymore � at least for now [I hope to someday get this and my other �baggage� worked out so I can again try dosing.
Shit, I think it was a mistake doing this, I should have tried to find a way to say what needed saying in a paragraph or so.
This has f**king sent me straight to the basement of bi-polar.
I�ll finish this [I wish I could find the one I wrote months ago and just used it again, this sucks].
Hopefully I will be able to go back and re-do everything above this; though I don�t know if I can deal with re-living things even in a short form, but I think I�ve said to damn much anyway: 90% of this is really nobody at TOTSE�s damn business � no offense to anyone, but would you post something so obviously personal?
Ok, the rest, in a nutshell.
I was stopped from hurting Cheryl any further.
The cops were dealt with ; they managed to keep me out of jail [don�t ask how, I don�t know, they never said].
My wife took Ali and spent the next few days at a friends [6 months later it was forever]
I was told what I did. I got very depressed. I drank more. I decided Cheryl & Ali would be better off with me dead, so I stated taking pills I could find from the scattered box.
By the time my friend returned to check up on me. He knew I was depressed, but never suspected I was suicidal � that just wasn�t in my nature; and I wouldn�t have been if not for the Zoloft.
I didn�t tell him, but he finally got the idea that if nothing else, I had taken too much of too many different drugs, so what�s he do?
Has me smoke snort and eat about � to 1 g of crank; it did wake me up some, enough to get an idea [he had collected the rest of the pills he could find so I wouldn�t eat them]
I took the rest of the bottle of Zoloft., didn�t tell him, of course.
A couple of hours later he was in the front room talking to me in the back, thinking I was feeling better.
My attitude wasn�t that of depression anymore; I was on a middle ground, sort of; boosted by the knowledge that things would be over not to long from then.
Then I lucked out; under my 4-track workbench [the back room was my �den�, I had it set up as a mini studio] I found, and consumed the equivalent of � g heroin.
I think it was about an hour later that I not so much passed out as sank into a deep nothing [that�s as good as I can explain it]..
My next memory was a fuzzy one [as were the y all from here on] of dude trying to wake me: he found the empty Zoloft bottle [I wasn�t as clever in hiding it as I thought]. I tried to tell him that it was an old bottle, that they were long gone.
He didn�t believe me and called up my wife at her friend�s. She confirmed there was only the one bottle and that should be over half full.
Boy, talk about pissed off! He came back to me, wouldn�t let me close my eyes more than an extended blink, while yelling at me �did I take the Zoloft�, over and over and over.
It was so f**king annoying.
So I finally said yes and asked to shut the f**k up and let me go sleep it off.
No go. He then started in on �why?�, �why?�, �why?�, �why?�, �why?�.
Talk about getting on a persons nerve, sheesh.
Again, to shut him up I told him, figuring I was on an irreversible course.
He eventually got the whole of it out me, at least that which I could recall.
That was something like 5 or so blue valiums, some snorted, three purple Xanix, the Zoloft, 10 or so Motrin 800�s, a handful of somas, a few Vicodin, 2 Darvons [there may have been percs in there too, but I�m not sure any more], 6 or 7 morphine pills [may or may not have been morphine. I guy who sold them to me said they were, but I was still very new to things then, 2 Dilaudids � also snorted, that � g of heroin and 1/5 and a pint of Southern Comfort. And the speed dude gave me to wake me up.
Quite a cocktail � even for me [I have a very high tolerance to most drugs so could and did take a lot of whatever it was I was taking..
He tried to get me to go to the emergency room, I refused. We went back and forth a short time, I gave in when he said he�d call the paramedics and police if I didn�t go with him.
He calls ahead to warn them we were coming, giving them the list I gave him [I made him swear not to mention the H, which seems odd now: I was ready to die, I was sure I was going to, yet I didn�t want Heroin on my medical record � go figure.
Last thing I remember is being led into a treatment room, the nurse telling me to lay down. I told her I couldn�t. She said I could, it was ok, it was allowed. I told her she had the understanding of someone named Cheryl [I thought I was being witty], that it was not possible to lay down because my curved back prevented it.
And that was it. I briefly woke up 20 hours or so later, with the taste of what I learned was activated charcoal all in my mouth. I found out because as soon as someone saw I was awake, I was forced to �drink� another pack of the crap. Back out I went.
Some 40-something hours after that I woke up again. Groggy as hell but up for sure. I got checked out, my friend to come get me and home I went..
Nothing was the same after that. It seems like every aspect of my life got f**ked from that little adventure.
Lost my job [they put me on disability; they understood I had emotional problems, but they still caused too many problems for them]. Loss of job meant loss of house [which I had owned up till then. Wife left with daughter to the other side of the country.
12 months later: I ended up homeless, losing 75% of my possessions., disability insurance ran out; social security denied me first time [as they do all claims]. My health insurance was running out so I let a quack at Kaiser talk me into having neck surgery � you know how that went. My Dalmatian, who I left with a friend when I became homeless, got out and was killed by a car.
It�s only been the past 4 years or so that I�ve managed to claw my way back up. I have a job, an apartment. I�m civil with Cheryl, which means I have access to Ali whom I talk to several times a week now. But that�s it.
I�m ready for a down turn again in the not too distant future: My condition continues to get worse and accelerating, which means it won�t be that far off that I will be unable to work any more.
When that happens I will have no way to live: Social Security claims they overpaid me $20,000 and have said any future money I might have coming to me � be it retirement [like I�ll live to 65!], or disability will be with held until the $20,000 is paid back.
So: I�m gonna be screwed.
I know what I�m going to do, and this time nobody will know. I assure you.
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2002-11-17, 01:20
) i have around 4 attempted suicides nothing seems to balance my depression besides opiates wich also cause me lots of problems.