When you are frightened but have reached adulthood, are so far into it in fact that you have grey hairs and your parents have died long ago, who do you turn to allay your fears?
The wonderful thing about being a fortunate child is being able to rely on adults who love you without question. Life never really replaces the feeling of security you felt at that time. They are there for you, nurse you when you are sick, feed you and provide you with shelter. You learn to trust them implicitly and don't even think to question that trust, because they looked after you from the beginning when you were a helpless blob of no earthly use. There are many children now and throughout history, who have not known such parents and that sense of support and I truly feel for them.
I don't think I've ever really recovered from my childhood because I was one of the fortunate ones. When I was ill last year and later when I convalesced and thought I would never get better, I turned to my son for support and to unburden myself of my emotional fears. He may be forty plus but I didn't feel right about this as it's meant to be the other way around. In fact I felt pathetic no matter how good he was about it, but deep down inside me there was this vacuum where I was flailing about seeking something or someone because I was frightened and still am. I realized pretty quickly what that vacuum was; it was my parents who were long gone and the feeling of safety they gave me.
Even if harm came to me as a child, I had unwavering trust in them. Whatever happened I knew they were there for me and would do everything they could to help me. Now, without them here to be my advocates, I have to do it all myself and have for decades even when they were still around for emotional support, which is vital when you are ill. You need it to help assuage your fears, for advice and just to know someone cares.
One problem is that the older you become the more redundant you also become. If I were to die tomorrow my son and those who love me (and there aren't many of those around any more) would be sad but not devastated. My son has children now and I am on the downward side of the peak of my life. I hope I have many more years but it's me who cares most about that now. There are no parents left whose hearts would break and my son and his family would mourn a bit while getting on with living.
Don't get me wrong, I don't expect for a minute to be mourned the way a parent mourns their child, that is the nature of things. It's just hard becoming redundant when I still have the heart of a child, when I have been cossetted and treasured, when I still want to hold onto life in the same way. I am not redundant to myself.
My last year has been peculiar to say the least. When I had Pneumonia everyone was concerned even over the two months it took to recover from it. Before that, however, I was weaning from a long term antidepressant and still am ten months on. The illness came smack in the middle of this and it was hard to tell if it was Pneumonia still making me sick weeks after I left hospital or weaning from the antidepressant. It's now six months since my illness and I still have bad days as I continue to wean but it's so hard to tell which is causing me to feel bad.
For the other people in my life, putting up with a person who is distressed for ten months has become tiresome. I do my best to cover it but it's not easy coming off an antidepressant and it also, obviously, has psychological repercussions. I don't feel the latter have been too bad compared to the physical but I do know I feel hopelessly overwhelmed. I also know I am irritating those closest to me.
I feel like a complete wimp. I have always been stalwart and strong during my illnesses, one quite severe, and always felt I would bounce back. This behavior is uncharacteristic of me but now, at the age of sixty-eight, I really feel the need of my parents. Perhaps the absence of the antidepressants has affected me more than I realize. The thing about being old is that you become the senior. There's really no one much more senior who is up to the task of being the mentor, the wise one. The older most people get the more they need care and support so we have to turn to the younger ones who have their hands full of children and making a living.
Hence, while I'm still able, I have to paddle my own canoe through these rough waters and tell my troubles to my much younger doctor. While what I say next may seem arrogant it is true. I am highly intelligent. I spend a lot of time trying to understand what is happening to me and to read everything I can on the Internet about withdrawal. There really isn't enough out there but what I do have is experience of prescription medicines and how badly the wrong type of antidepressant can kick you about. My doctor's solution to improve my energy again is to put me on another antidepressant when I'm fully off this one (which was discontinued).
Do you really think I want to go through experimenting with new ones to find the right one? The wrong ones can really have very adverse effects. I know I've been there. I don't want to feel worse before I feel better but I believe my energy won't come back for a long time after thirty years on this drug without resorting to another antidepressant. I think this is the reason I feel such a need for my parents again; it is because I've been reduced to the helplessness of a child in a no win situation.
Every time I lower the old antidepressant the teeniest bit from its already teeny amount, I feel physically lousy again. I will have to be fully without the drug for at least two weeks before I can even go through the hell of experimenting with a new one. Ten months into this horror I don't know why I'm as sane as I still am. The rest of the world is dealing with Covid-19 while I am dealing with this while trying to avoid the virus as well.
I know I'm far from the only person going through their own particular brand of hell this year. Covid-19 has compounded everybody's problems. When I think about it, it has also thrown other major problems into the background because everything pales into insignificance in the face of it. But we all still have our individual, important problems in the midst of this all consuming one. It's a real shame we can't all give one another a great big hug and weep together as if we were each other's parents.
I am beginning to see the similarity now between my parents and my antidepressant. I relied on them both and they bolstered me both psychologically and physically. I needed both my parents and the pills a lot more than I realized and, while I will always miss my parents, I would really love to be free of my reliance on this drug, which I didn't think I needed anymore until I tried to get out of its grip.
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