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  1. I’ve been on Wellbutrin for 20 years. Since November 2018, I've started tapering from my initial dosage (300-mg per day). I'm down to 200-mg per day. If I could sum up what Wellbutrin has done for me, I would say this. The monsters that Wellbutrin imprisoned for 20-years are slowly escaping now that the prison itself is slowly breaking down. And I’m once again left with dealing with issues, old relics which caused my depression in the first place. I suffered much abuse as a child and as a result, I had a lot of anger. As a teen, my controlling parents abandoned me and then in my twenties, when I was too lost, angry and hopeless, and I didn't have life skills developed enough to function in this world, they threw me to the wolves because I wouldn't cooperate with them because I was tired of their s**t. After a shrink experimented on me, I was finally placed on a benzodiazepine. After suffering from weird side effects, fearing permanent damage to my body, without my doctor’s knowledge, I slowly tapered off the stuff. My doctor was useless and had the deer in the headlights look when I showed him the damning research I did on benzodiazepines. After months of perpetual fatigue, I finally went back to my witch doctor and I allowed him to place me on Wellbutrin. I was that desperate. Along with curing the chronic fatigue, Wellbutrin took away all my anger and anxiety, so I could function and work at getting myself out of the terrible situation I found myself in. Fast forward twenty years. My current situation, suffering from withdrawal, has caused me to experience flashbacks in the form of vivid dreams. I believe these flashbacks and the extreme anger I feel are symptoms telling me that I need to work on myself. I married in my 50’s to a man who had two daughters ages 11 and 14. His ex-wife, if I had to guess, suffers from Borderline Personality Disorder and is a Narcissistic Queen Mother. My husband’s ex is intrusive, loud, inpatient, and flamboyant. She is easily frustrated, often bursting into rages than can terrify her children. She can be disingenuous and lies in order to get what she wants. The Queen relates to others with superficiality and an air of detachment. My husband’s ex perceived others, including her girls, as a threat to her own survival unless we all relinquish their needs for hers. Queen mothers compete with their children for a time, attention, love, and money. Superficial interest and a lack of attunement to the child's emotional needs are typical of Queen mothers. I don’t think I need to continue with the description because I think you get the point. Her daughters - I get along very well with the youngest girl. However, the older one is going to be just like or worse than her mother when she matures. If I had to guess, the oldest child is an introverted covert narcissist and she is a very cold-hearted individual who gives me the creeps. I have known the girls for two years. From day one, the oldest girl has been distant, secretive and entitled. Being the people pleaser that I am, I tried to bend over backward to please someone who can never be pleased. Here's the situation that triggered my flashbacks. Case in point, two nights ago, the temperature fell below freezing. The oldest girl was going to a party and had nothing on but a slip dress and stiletto heels. Her father and I attempted to force her to wear a coat or jacket, but she outright refused. If I had to guess, she did not want anything covering up her beautiful body – or so she thought . I finally gave her my fancy sweater to wear. After coming home, the next day, she proceeds to prance around the house with not much on and obsessively complained that she is cold and demands that the house be warmer, and she wants a heater for her bedroom. Me, like the people pleaser that I am, I gave her my heater. That night both I and my husband were very cold. He didn’t appreciate me giving up our heater and he pointed out the fact that she was willing to go almost butt naked to a party on an extremely cold night but then she came home and b*tch** about the house being cold and she wanted it warmer. That’s the reason he didn’t cater to her demands to increase the temperature. At the dinner table the next day. I joked with the girls that I would clean their rooms for $20 per week. These two girls are so entitled and lazy that their grandmother tries to bribe them to motivate the girls to ‘consider’ keeping their rooms clean and organized. They both said no. I then jokingly told them that they should ask their grandmother for $30 a week. They could keep $10 and I’ll clean their rooms for $20. After long silent consideration, the youngest daughter said she would split the money 50/50 with me. However, the oldest said that she would have me clean her room in addition to me washing her bed sheets and making up her bed. She said I should be thankful if she gives me $5 out of the $30 for my efforts. This is a fine example showing the characters of the two girls. The youngest one endears me to her – the oldest repels me. That night, after getting to sleep, I had a series of dreams. The theme running through the dreams was – my inability to take care of myself. Here’s the dream series: I’m at my childhood home. Its morning, I went into the kitchen to make myself some breakfast. I wanted to change my habit of not taking care of myself. My mother, in lightning speed, like a wolf spider exiting its den, opened her bedroom door and rushed into the kitchen to attack me for making noise. I had to abandon making breakfast and go to school. During elementary, junior high and high school, I suffered long periods of time starving. My mother was a hateful woman who used every opportunity she could to destroy me. The dream changed and there was another scene. I was a twenty-something woman. After spending a few hours with a man, my intuition told me this man was a heartless uncaring person. I told my father my thoughts in hopes of figuring out everything I had experienced while on the date. My conclusion was I wanted nothing to do with him. But my father talked me out of trusting my intuition and told me to give him a chance. As a result, I spent years being abused by this man because I tried to make it work with him. He turned out to be a psychopath and hurt me so bad, in one regard, I will never recover from. The dream changed again, and I was a teenager. My self-absorbed, sister and hateful mother were very controlling. I had little money, working as a part-time nanny. I decided I wanted to learn to cook. I always wanted to learn how to make cheesecake, so I purchase the ingredients. No sooner than I had placed them on the kitchen table then my mother and sister came running, like two hyenas into the kitchen to see what they could rip off me. They proceeded to chase me away from my ingredients and push me out of the house. They made the cheesecake and ate it themselves. I didn’t even get a crumb. I woke up angry. I told my husband about the dream and then related it to his oldest daughter. Now, I believe he thinks I have mental issues. No…not his daughter, the one who has somatic narcissist traits and treats everyone, including him very, very poorly. I wasn’t going to wait a week or so to get my sweater or my heater back. The oldest girl never gives anything back unless I beg and beg and beg her. Cold as ice, acting put out, she grudgingly gave me my heater and sweater back. I believe my current situation reminds me of my past. I believe my anger is telling me I’m dealing with the oldest girl incorrectly. I believe I need to stop people pleasing and have nothing to do with the oldest girl. I’m in a difficult situation because the father already told me he loves his children more than me. I believe that an informal given that a parent loves their children the most in this world. But he didn’t have to say it. So, I have not interfered with how the girls treat their father. I didn’t remind them to call him nor did I suggest they get him a gift. Case in point, they did not remember to call him for his birthday, nor did they get him a birthday or Christmas present. The oldest and to a certain extent the youngest treat their father like their mother does – he’s just an ATM money machine. God help him. I believe I need a support group while I’m healing so that I don’t talk to my husband about my recovery and to get some support so I don’t fall into any trap his oldest child might set for me. Does anyone have any suggestions? Has anyone gone through what I have gone through or are going through now? Thanks!
  2. MOD NOTE: Contents of post may be triggering for some members. (mods I am not sure where to put this so move if necessary) I just hope someone reads it. I don't know if you do trigger warnings but if you do this should have it. Hopefully the title says enough. I have been doing well in my recovery. I have had some anxiety and limited depression. I do get stuck sometimes but I have had a few work and personal successes so I need to look on the bright side. The last 2 weeks have hit me hard. I have read a lot about it and I am truly upset and disgusted by this pig of a man. I have since been thinking about my past and not feeling good. The anxiety has returned and I am having trouble eating and sleeping. Everything looks great from the outside as I have already said but not so good from the inside. I can’t stop ruminating about it. When I was 16 I was lonely and depressed. I had a few friends and wasn’t happy in school. I missed my boyfriend who broke up with me went he went to college. My parent’s lives were a mess as well. The former boyfriend of one of my friends who had moved away called and invited me to watch tv and hang out with him Sat night. I went thinking it would be a fun diversion and because I really needed a friend. I also thought he was cool and worldly because he was 21. He had a room set up in his mother's basement and we hung out and watched tv. He tried to kiss me but I just moved my head. He walked me home around 11. He invited me the next week as well. He bought rum and coke for me because he knew I liked it. I didn’t really but it was the only drink I thought I would like when we talked the week before. We watched tv and I drank. I was a lightweight and hardly drank at all. At some point I woke up and was laying on his pull out couch bed with half my clothes off. He was kissing me. I moved my head to avoid him and squirmed because I didn’t know what else to do. Then I laughed to myself. I decided the situation was ridiculous. I stood up and started to get dressed. My plan was to walk out the door and go home. I wasn’t putting up with that! He saw me getting dressed and pushed me back down on the bed. I must have hit my head on part of the bed frame or the arm of the couch. It hurt and I was scared. My confidence was gone. He took off my clothes and I didn’t do anything. He took his clothes off and I turned my head so I didn’t have to see him. He got on top of me and did his thing. I fooled around with my previous boyfriend a lot but had never gone that far. So that was my first time. It didn’t hurt that much but later I learned he was kind of small. He told me to put my arms around him which I did. Having to do that and look at him was almost as upsetting as everything else. When it was over, he drank some more and fell asleep or passed out. At that point I put my clothes on again but without the same feeling of confidence. I had to sneak up from the lower level and through the living room to the front door. I was so scared his mother would find me and know what I did. Maybe she was out, I left through the front door without knocking anything over or tripping the alarm. I ran home and got in bed. The next day I told my mom I had the flu. I couldn’t get out of bed. The next day in school I talked to a weird girl in my English class. She was strange but I thought she would be safe. She was sympathetic and that made me feel a tiny bit better. My friend who dated him was coming back to town. I wanted to tell her what happened. I somehow knew she would comfort me and everything would be all right. She and he had a wild relationship and had a lot of great sex. She told me he went down on her at the movies. The was the only detail I knew but I thought that said a lot. We went out for coffee. I screwed up my courage and told her what happened. And she laughed. I was stunned. She then told me that she wasn’t surprised because he talked about me a lot and she knew he wanted me. I don’t remember the rest of the evening but at that point the subject was over. He called me when I was sleeping. I don’t remember but my mom said I yelled at him and told him not to call me again. Another friend called to tell me she was going out with him. I wanted to warn her but she told me how much she liked him what fun they were having. He took her to brunch and I guess they did nice normal stuff. I am glad he never hurt her. They stopped seeing each other a few months later without incident. I never understood why he hurt me and not her. I think it was because he knew I was somehow more vulnerable and weak. A few weeks later I went out with the new couple and a guy for me. All I remember is I drank that night and didn’t get home too late. I know nothing bad happened. I always felt guilty and bad about myself because I saw him a second time. I have recently read that people do that to change the narrative, so it doesn’t seem so bad. That was such a relief because I always thought there was something wrong with me for seeing him again. I know this will blow over but for now it is interfering with my recovery. I have been sexually harassed at work on occasion. Nothing too bad. I had a job where I was invited to a lot of meetings and conferences. I thought it was because I was smart and had a lot to offer. Now I wonder if the old guys just invited me to have someone fun to talk to at lunch. Nothing to gross happened but there were icky comments. Does anyone have any suggestions so that I can put this behind me….again?
  3. I am new to this site and and am seeking others' experiences and observations. I just had a private conversation with a member (we then agreed to keep ourselves to the site to help educate others). She revealed to me she had been abused in her past. I am opening up this topic because I had been too, and see this experience (childhood physical abuse) as the root cause of my major depressive disorder and PTSD. I went on meds (far too many, of course -- why I am here) because I have had these "disorders" (whatever you wish to call them) since childhood. I am wondering what role my early history of abuse has played in my protracted withdrawal (disautonomia). Basically, I am trying to understand the quandary of how and why I got on so many meds in the first place. I am wondering whether there are some "markers" that may indicate why some people can successfully be on meds (or just one) for a limited time, while others of us are not as responsive and therefore go on more and more with the result that many of us are now experiencing. To be more clear -- I clearly have had more than my share of trauma, which in itself has negatively affected my autonomic nervous system. I was depressed episodically for many years before I ever went on meds. This site seems to focus on what happens once we take them. However, why did many of us go on them in the first place, and why were we treatment resistant to the point where we were overmedicated? Yes, the drug industry and psychiatric "community" promote and practice overmedication and have an "additive" philosophy. However, I am trying to reach inside myself and to others to see why we here might have been far less able to respond to single medications at relatively low doses. What role does early trauma play in "treatment resistant depression?" As noted in my history, I was recovering well from Parkinsonism (NOT Parkinsons -- some people have misinterpreted this in an earlier post) I had just the symptoms without the disease -- all disappeared when I went off six meds cold turkey bwecause of severe allergic reactions). Yet, after six months my autonomic nervous system is even more out of control. I was doing so well until six weeks ago, and now have a plethora of new symptoms -- profound insomnia, excessive thirst, neuropathies, as well as persistent, severe GERD (had this since I withdrew), and new severe depression. Am I unusually susceptible to all this because of the life-long stresses on my autonomic nervous system? Scarier still: am I less likely to recover? (I turned 61 yesterday -- I did have a lovely birthday, and an excruciating night -- exerted myself too much I think). So chicken and egg -- do (did) many of us here have a history of trauma/abuse that led us to overmedication and/or real difficulty in withdrawal? Thanks so much everyone.
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