"I don't want to wake up," I sobbed, which understandably angered him. Who wants to wake up next to a bloated corpse?
I went back to my lady psychiatrist earlier than planned and told her, inbetween the weeping, what was up. I'd quit the Lexapro because it had made me fat and I could not concentrate on anything but Robot Chicken episodes and horoscopes. She nodded and prescribed me Zoloft, which I took for nearly a month, and although was less stonecold, batshit crazy, true, I was not as sane as I had been prior. Another trip to lady psychiatrist, and I am back on the Lexapro and able to write this.
The moral of the story, kids, is that just because you are feeling sane and cannot sit through a Lord of the Rings movie, does not mean you should go off your meds. You are likely feeling sane because of the meds and should continue taking them even though you cannot fit in your Paul Frank pajamas. Needing meds does not mean you are weak. It just means you're crazy.