Jonny Numb

“The burden of conscience is the pharmaceutical industry’s gain.” – Me

Restless. Irritated. Anxious.

I’m so used to you, Old Friend, that I’m not sure what life was ever like without you. (I think that’s a paraphrase of something Sigourney Weaver says in Alien3.)

It has been years, after all.

Years since the pandemic drove most of the population into a state of despair, worry, or death.

But it’s possible I started Lexapro before all that fuss ever manifested.

I can’t remember, honestly.

I’m sure I have old paperwork from my early scrips, housed in the green plastic crate with all my other important invoices, but making the effort to actually look feels like climbing Everest right about now.

When the Lexapro stopped “working,” I was bumped up and over to Effexor.

And, a month ago, when I confided to one of my therapists and my PCP that I’d plateaued on the maximum dose of Effexor (225mg), Wellbutrin was recommended.

Apparently…Effexor fucks with your brain and body to the extent that you need to continue with a reduced dosage for a period (in my case, in conjunction with Wellbutrin) before solely dosing with the new drug.

First Stage: 2 weeks at a reduced dosage of Effexor (150mg) along with Wellbutrin.

Second Stage: 2 weeks at a reduced dosage of Effexor (75mg) along with Wellbutrin.

Time being the bitching artificial construct it is, I finished the 75mg Effexor regimen before my 30-day regimen of Wellbutrin was complete.

I think the last day I was able to take both of them together was Tuesday, September 23.

On Wednesday the 24^th, I just had Wellbutrin.

That day, I went into Baltimore with a friend to do some book and music shopping, followed by a show at the much-loved Metro Gallery (Australia’s Tropical Fuck Storm headlined; Baltimore’s Infinity Knives and Brian Ennals opened).

It was an overcast day, but my eyes and mind felt glazed over and my ability to make conversation below my usual baseline. I felt lobotomized – idiotic, even – and wondered if my friend could sense something amiss. Probably.

On a normal day, I like to think I’m a pretty interesting guy (though that might be delusion talking).

Wednesday progressed to Thursday and onward into the weekend.

Little things irritated me – how warm I would get while washing dishes; the mysterious gunk that had hardened to a pan and was impossible to scrub off – leading to expletives being spat into the ether.

I suppose amplification of bother would be one way of putting it.

Heretofore minor nuisances inflating like used condoms to the breaking/spattering point.

I found myself increasingly irritated during a hike with my S.O. at Gifford Pinchot State Park – an activity I usually enjoy (especially as an alternative to going to the Neanderthal Consortium that is the musty and sweaty and smelly gym).

Was it the sun beating down on my bare, balding head?

To that end, was it the lingering summer heat and humidity that should’ve fucked off and died a month ago?

Was it the lousy sleep I’d been enduring for several days (waking up with neck-sweats; waking up feeling like my mass was sinking into the mattress and box-spring like Johnny Depp in A Nightmare on Elm Street; waking up after my mind had perpetuated Grand Central Station levels of frenetic dream activity)?

Maybe it was everything.

The inability to circle back to the condition of one’s mind before it became clouded, stimulated, and-or otherwise changed by the introduction of a prescribed chemical complement is…troubling.

I remember feeling sluggish, passive, and emotionally flat – small, everyday tasks seemed insurmountable at the slightest sign of complication.

Indeed, these feelings – or lack of feelings, whatever – seemed to be manifesting once more.

As they say: All that is old becomes new again.

A headache – thumping, pounding, proudly aggressive in its interloper presence – settled in after the Sunday park-walk, and I retreated into an anxiety-riddled headspace that questioned whether I should take my usual dose of Excedrin Migraine out of concern that it would…

…what, exactly?

Fuck me up, somehow is what I was thinking, but not sure if I really believed. I was feeling fucked-up enough already.

So I spent the remainder of Sunday trying to figure out a way to de-stress and wait out the headache through non-chemical means. Several hours later, going into the evening, it subsided to the point where I could watch a movie on headphones without it worsening.

On the morning of September 29, I spoke with my PCP for a scheduled med check. She chose to extend the lower dosage of Effexor (in conjunction with the Wellbutrin) over the course of two more months to see if it aids in reducing the side effects I’m currently experiencing.

(Update as of October 11: the side effects have subsided with taking 75mg of Effexor every other day; switching over to every third day in the second month. Stay tuned!)