Klonopin Coma: a cautionary tale...

[Shawn]

...of chemically induced dysphoria. (or, how to lose an entire decade by filling a $15 prescription once a month)

I must admit that when I started my journey of stripping away 3 layers of prescribed psychoactive medication (with self medication topping) a little over 2 months ago, I really wasn't sure what I'd find underneath. After all, not a day had gone by that I hadn't taken some kind of anti-depressant since the year 2000, and since 2003 it had been either 2 or 3 medication "cocktails". What I found, was a smoking gun...and the shocking realization that all (and I do mean ALL) of my crippling emotional disorders, the ones that have left me feeling like a broken, kicked dog whose barely alive...were phantoms. Severe side effects, masquerading as mental illness, gone unnoticed and unchanged, for 9 years.

The first thing I had to do, was look up the word dysphoria, which had somehow escaped my vocab teachers in school.

dysphoria[disfôr′ē·ə]

a disorder of affect characterized by depression and anguish.

That sounds pretty damn benign on the surface, it's not, it's hell on earth.

How did this wonderful symphony of destruction begin you might ask? Okay. Since I've been writing out variations of this for days, it's as succinct as it's going to get. But it's a page turner.

Prologue -

2000 - start with a mild case of depression, caused by a regretted decision and environmental factors, begin antidepressant treatment. 3 months later, get passed over for a promotion that was more than deserved, it was already "promised", the depression deepens and the doctor increases the dosage of the medication. It's been so long now, I don't even remember which antidepressant it was at the beginning.

2001 - in a move of frustration, brought on partially by increased side effects to the antidepressant, I transfer to a lower position in a small satellite office in Dallas Texas. Now, this was the second "chickenshit" decision I had made in less than a year and a half, because my original intent in 1999 was to move to Los Angeles, but at the last moment, I decided to move with my company when they relocated the whole shebang from Seattle to Charlotte NC (oh, the culture shock). Did I want to move to Dallas? No. I planned on leaving my job at the end of the agreed year in Charlotte, collect a severance package..use that money to relocate to Los Angeles. But as I mentioned above, the antidepresants side effects were chipping away just enough of my confidence, I knew I couldn't remain in Charlotte, but I wasn't brave enough to do a simple job search...so instead, I took the inner-office transfer.

Beginning:

2002 - About a year into my time in Dallas, the depression continues to deepen. At this point, I'm still mostly just depressed by being in Dallas, in a dead end job that I didn't really want and frustrated with myself to no end for moving there. Nothing against Dallas or the numerous awesome people I met there...it just wasn't where I needed to be and I knew it. But even though I knew it, instead of actually doing anything about it, I seek out additional assistance by seeing a Psychiatrist in Dallas.

He starts by changing my antidepressant to Effexor (which is actually 2 antidepressants combined). I react very badly to the medication and start getting erratic. So he removes the Effexor and instead, he puts me on a cocktail of Lexapro and Wellbutrin. I get much more erratic. Seeming a tad confused by this, he decides to add Klonopin, to help with the anxiety. Shortly afterward (within 3 weeks) I'm meeting with my new therapist for maybe the second or third session, I'm pretty much a wreck and she applies just a little emotional pressure, to goad a response out of me...and I burst into tears uncontrollably. I described to her that it felt like I had "a ball of anger, the size of a baseball, stuck in the center of my chest".

Lights Out:

2003 - After a few more sessions with the therapist yield similar results (slight pressure, huge emotional reaction that's way out of proportion), she decides I have a problem with the medication, but that I also have "a lot of unresolved issues that we need to work on". Now, as usual the therapist and the psychiatrist don't communicate with each other at all, leaving me (the seriously erratic patient) to pass the information back and forth between them. The pyschiatrist tries one more anti-depressant change to Zoloft, leaves the Wellbutrin chaser...and of course, doesn't question the possiblity that there could be a problem with the Klonopin.

See, these old drugs (dating back to the 60's) like Klonopin. Doctors don't pay attention that stuff anymore, they are only interested if you're trying to scam it to get high. If they actually think you have a problem, it's like a sugar pill to them, it's so "old" it's normal and predictable and they don't have to watch it very closely.

Now, if the dude had taken a quick glance at the severe side effects listed for Klonopin, he might have seen a picture of me on the page beside it. Because looking back now, it was a pretty apt description of the guy sitting in the chair in front of him. The therapist might have looked it up too, but that's not her job.

Then the final mistake happens. The Psychiatrist, unable to explain why I'm not getting better and actually getting worse, believes that I actually have bipolar disorder instead of my previous diagnosis of major depression.

So, to the cocktail of Zoloft, Wellbutrin and Klonopin...he adds Depakote. And the wheels flew off the train.

Within the next 2 months, I quit my job, throw away all my furniture into the dumpster behind my apartment, shave down the size of my CD collection by throwing out all the jewel cases (so I could fit all of them in the damn car) and....move back home, West Virginia? WHAT?

Now, the reason for the big "WHAT?", is that just a little over 2 years before that, I was still following my plan of College, first stepping stone job, relocate to Los Angeles. But the guy that arrived back in West Virgiia, that wasn't me, it was what was left over after I had been completely buried by the medication. And there wasn't much left and he wasn't making a whole lotta sense and his family begged him to see another doctor.

COMA CONTINUES - 2003 - 2011

Don't worry, this part is shortert. Because it just became a pattern and I kept following it over and over like a record constantly repeating one side on a stuck changer.

So, why didn't doctor's #3-#7 ever figure out that the Klonopin was the problem all along? Because they kept changing the antidepressants, over and over and over. I didn't care, because I didn't care about anything (Dysphoria) and the only emotion I had left was anger/aggression and my only motivating factor was fear. I literally just kept breathing and going through the motions (and somehow continued to work and drive and actually make a living for a good portion of that time), But I was lost completely, so long since I had felt anything that wasn't a side effect, I just assumed I was never going to get better, I had a severe depressive disorder that I would never get out of and that I would be on medication for the rest of my life.

Why did I think that way? Because that's what the fucking doctors kept telling me. ALL OF THEM at some point would say "now, there's a good chance you may have to continue taking these indefinitely,' Yeah, that's how you motivate people to get well. Let 'em know there's no fucking hope and they just have to "deal with it".

Since that initial move to West Virginia, I have moved briefly back to Seattle, then back to West Virginia, then to Arlington, then to Mississippi, then back to West Virginia, then to Virgina Beach, then to Austin.

No, nobody ever took me off the Klonopin. Why? That's really a fucking good question. Because, according the the AMA website, you're supposed to take them for like a maximum of 9 weeks and it's not recommended to take them for long periods because they are a controlled substance and are addictive.

I was on them for 458 weeks give or take.

Every new doctor in every new town, would ask a single question when I'd go meet them to get my refills the first time. Are you still having anixiety issues? I would answer yes (because the anxiety medicine was causing them) and then they'd say, "well, we'll continue on the Klonopin then".

AWAKE & NO DEPRESSION

So here I still was in Austin. Still suffering interminably, but I just couldn't maintain anymore. Couldn't hold a job, smoked pot constantly all day and night 7 days a week, lost my apartment, sold most of my remaining belongings, moved back in with a gracious friend and finally had enough...and I quit the Wellbutrin. Then quit the Zoloft. Those took a couple months, still didn't feel any better, but I was still on Klonopin and high all the time, so no significant change.

5 days ago I took my last Klonopin.

I sit here now, after typing out a mammoth post that would have taken me 4 hours to do on all the meds, but was less than 45 minutes tonight.

As soon as the Klonopin worked it's way out of my system (around day 2) I had a pretty good idea a breakthrough was happening before my eyes. Now that the majority of the physical withdrawal symptoms are gone, I realize it wasn't really a breakthrough, it was just undoing a 9 year old mistake so complex and convoluted that there was no way in hell the problem could be that simple, not a chance, my mental problems were too deep, I had too much anger inside me to hold, I was going to be on medication for the rest of my life...

It was that motherfucking simple.

I'm fine. In fact, I'm more than fine. I'm the guy I was before I took the first Klonopin. I pull out one little frayed thread (the Klonopin) and the rest just fell away, no more knots, just a big pile of string on the floor.

So, that's my story. It's a movie of the week that's for sure. As I've sat here in this room for the past few days, working through all these withdrawals, it's literally been like waking up from a coma. At some point, the guy I've been since 2003 vanished and I just "popped" back into reality. A switch flipped. No depression. No agression and rage. No sadness. Having clarity of thought. Enjoying the fact that my head is "quiet", because it's just been jumbled and disconnected thoughts for 10 years, a constant cacophony.

EPILOGUE: Right Now and BEYOND.

Somewhere way up there I think I mentioned something about planning to move to Los Angeles in 1997, then again in 1999, then yet again in 2001, then I just got too scattered to go anywhere but jump from wrong place to wrong place. Never ending up where I originally intended, never going to Los Angeles after paying for college for the sole purpose of getting the skills so I could MAKE IT in Los Angeles?

I'M MOVING TO LOS ANGELES NOW! Fucking try and stop me, I could probably teleport there by sheer willpower alone.

Better all these years later than never and a damn miracle I'm even still alive to go there. Success/Failure isn't even a thought, because no matter what happens in my life from this point onward, it will always be a success, because I just got reborn and I'm not going to waste my second life.

NOT A CHANCE!

Shawn's back baby and he's headed to L.A.! Watch out!

not "THE END" but "THE BEGINNING".

Edited June 12, 2011 by Shawn

[Shawn]

A couple footnotes I need to add.

- The need to self medicate also went away when the Klonopin worked it's way out of my system, which is another major *bonus* to this whole thing.

- Now, everything is not sunshine and roses, because you don't come out of something like this without leaving a wake of destruction in your path. Mine kind of looks like Hiroshima. Mountainous debt (both to creditors and personal debts to family/friends), destroyed credit, repo'd car, destroyed rental credit, no regular medical visits or checkups, most of my remaining teeth are rotting out of my head, no savings, worn out clothes, etc. etc. etc.

A list like that, would have had me cowering in a corner a few weeks ago, I couldn't allow myself to think about a single one of those things, because the stress it caused was just too much to tolerate. Now, yeah, it's there, it needs to be fixed, it's not insurmountable but it's close...but surviving through all I've been through and be able to see that list and just accept it, not have to run and grab a pill or a bowl or something to quiet my quaking nerves...that seemed insurmountable for a decade.

[Dan Gould]

Good for you, Shawn. I'm glad to hear you're feeling good and making plans, and I'm sure you'll stick around and let us know about your new (resumed) life.

[.:.impossible]

Go get em Shawn!

[greggery peccary]

I don't know you Shawn, but thanks for having the courage to share your tale.

Good luck to you in LA.

James

[jazzbo]

James is right, you've been very brave, and have accomplished a lot. And you should be proud of these accomplishments.

[Indestructible!]

Shawn,

Thank you for sharing your words and story, and I wish you the best of luck. When you get to Los Angeles, let us know and I'd be glad to help out if I can. There are some good folks on this board living in LA, and I know we'll be there for you when you get here.

[Shawn]

Thank you so much for the kind words and encouragement!

[JSngry]

Go West, young man!

[Aggie87]

:tup

Way to go Shawn. Go get 'em in L.A.!

[PHILLYQ]

Knock 'em dead Shawn, best of luck to you and I'm happy to hear you're feeling better. It's also a cautionary about the tendencies of the medical profession to just drug people up.

[Jim Alfredson]

Shawn, your tale brought tears to my eyes. It outlines in bold print the problems with mental health issues in this country. My sister is going through the same thing, being bounced around from anti-depressant to anti-depressant. It's maddening.

Let me know when you get to LA. I am out there quite a bit these days. We can do lunch.

Go kick some ass!

[Alexander]

I've been on anti-depressants since 2003. Glad to say that I've had no problems (a few of the usual side effects some years ago, but nothing disabling by any stretch of the imagination. No side effects whatever in recent years). I'm certainly glad to hear that things have improved for you, Shawn. However, I'm not inclined to throw the baby out with the bathwater. Eight years ago, I was experiencing severe depression, crippling anxiety, suicidal thoughts, and impulses to self-harm. Today, I'm a far, far healthier individual. I've managed to navigate a bout of un/under-employment and a divorce, something that would have been completely impossible before I was on medication. I've also taken chances that I would have been afraid to take before, resulting in a part-time acting career.

So, it's great that you discovered that the meds you were taking weren't for you, and that you got off of them. However, I don't want to see your experience generalized to include everybody on anti-depressants. Drugs help a LOT of people lead normal lives. Just because you weren't one of them, that doesn't mean they don't work.

Edited June 13, 2011 by Alexander

[jazzbo]

That's absolutely true Alexander. Medication brought my wife back to me for a decade. I'm glad to hear that they've been helping you these last years. Onward and upward!

[Shawn]

I completely understand the need for medication and there are definitely people that need it, and there have been sections in my life when I have needed it myself. I was trying to stay as unbiased as possible with the telling of my tale. (though, I don't think anyone that's gone through my particular hell can be 100% comfortable with the current layout of the industry as it stands).

I actually assign no blame to anyone. There were about 7 different people trying to figure out what was going on with me...and I definitely had no idea. But when you don't stay in one place very long, and have to continually find new Doctor's, it makes it very hard for anybody to dig down deep enough to actually find the knot. I also didn't help the process much, especially over the past 4 years, which was just a long extended Pot haze on top of all that shit.

So it was a hard coated candy shell. And I was smothering somewhere underneath all that pile for a really long time.

But, having come out the other side, I realized that the issues I "thought" were bothering me, were actually just reflected mirages of past troubles, amplified by the medication and made real by my distorted perception of reality.

All those issues were real issues at one point or another in my life. Somewhere underneath that pile, I still managed to keep sifting and sorting and working on those issues...though I wasn't consciously aware of it.

So, when I arrived to the light of day, I fully expected to find a dude that still needed some kind of medication. I had no illusions about my past experience with mental health issues, I'm prone to it and I totally understand the need for it...and if the need arises at some point in the future, I have problem with seeking help and guidance.

But here are a few pointers, just small observances of my experience and how not to repeat it.

1. Never trust any Doctor 100%, they be humans too and they see a LOT of people, so mistakes can happen. Be vigilant and aware and question everything, just like you would if you were prodding a salesperson about buying a used car. Don't let them "hustle you out of the office quickly", make them earn the money they make.

2. Never go to a general practitioner for mental health problems, they don't have enough experience, those are the guys doling out the pills to everyone on the planet...without really having the specialized experience to be doing that.

The problem could be solved by simply only allowing Psychiatrists to prescribe mind altering medications. More jobs for Psychiatrists, less flow through the regular doctor's office, less zombies (like yours truly) walking the streets.

3. The minute that anything recreational in life (pot, pills, buying CDs, buying expensive gadgets, whatever) becomes a "need". SLAM ON THE BRAKES. There's trouble brewing.

4. If at all possible, see if there is "1" medication that helps the issue. Take 1 pill, then seek counseling immediately. No cocktails of multiple anti-depressants, anti-psychotics, tranquilizers, etc. Because they all mask each other...and once you fire up more than 1 pill...you have lost the ability to tell where your problems start and the phantoms of side effects begin. These medications take SO long to start working (usually 4-6 weeks) and take so long to work out of your system later (usually about 2 weeks longer than starting them)....give yourself as much time as you can, to see if that 1 pill will work...and if your Doctor wants to start up a second medicine on top...find out if detoxing off the current medication before starting the next is an option.

5. If you ever feel like you either "don't care" about life or you think about ending it..Please, do seek medical help, just do it intelligently and take daily journal notes, to ensure that you have a written record of your thoughts and feelings so you can see trends form.

No hate towards anyone, no blame placed, no real anger at all over my experience (just a little frustrated, but that's natural)...just glad to be out the other side, alive and wanting to march on.

Peace and health,

Shawn

Edited June 13, 2011 by Shawn

[Shawn]

With this post, I close the chapter on this section of my life and begin anew. In the end, it was roughly a 2 month process from the first medication removed, to the final one.

My tale is complete and I can move on without revisiting further, I hope it helps explain some of my erratic behavior here over the years. I would like to apologize to anyone I have ever offended here by my comments, they were not done out of malice, but out of illness.

If anyone out there can be helped by my story, please share it, it's all here in this one thread.

I'm going to request this thread be locked so it can remain as it stands for anyone that needs it, but it has served it's purpose to me.

Thanks to each and every member of this board for the kind thoughts, words and encouragement. I can now go to bed and sleep peacefully.