Musical Meds

I’m currently riding a rollercoaster of emotions. I’ve been playing “Musical Meds,” bouncing between medications for anxiety and depression, trying to find one that’ll work without bad side effects. It’s been rough. I stupidly decided to come off Paxil in March, because I didn’t think I needed meds anymore. It took 2 ½ months before I realized I still need meds. That’s how long it took for my anxiety to come back in full effect.

The Paxil had been very effective, obviously. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have felt comfortable coming off it. But I put on 20 lbs. soon after starting it, and my throat had a dry feeling that made eating or drinking anything with sugar somewhat unpleasant. I was willing to put up with those side effects for a year-and-a-half, but eventually I didn’t think it was necessary.

I knew there were risks in coming off Paxil, but what took me by surprise was the strength of the anxiety. It’s not like I was miserable when I started it. At the time, I was doing OK on Zoloft, but that didn’t seem to have much effect, so I figured coming off Paxil, at worse, would put me back in that “fair to middlin’” zone.

After I’d been off Paxil for a month or so, I felt fine and figured I was in the clear. But then the anxiety started creeping back in, until 2 days before my 2-year-old nephew Patrick (or “Paddy,” as I like to call him) came to visit, when it settled in for good. And it wasn’t that “fair to middlin’” anxiety. It was the hard stuff.

That’s just the kind of bad timing I’m known for. My parents and I would be taking care of my nephew for 10 days while my sister and brother-in-law were on vacation in Iceland. Those 10 days were pretty rough, which sucked because I took 9 days off from my temp job so I could hang out with Paddy and help my parents take care of him.

I felt like I was trapped in the house with my parents, a 2-year-old and all my issues from childhood. I got through it with the help of daily meditation and escapes to Uptown in the afternoon after putting him down for his nap.

Ya know, I may not be good at Life, but I’m good at singing my nephew to sleep, and that’s gotta count for something.

Per my sister’s instructions, I would sit down with him in my lap and tell him a story I made up. (Books had become too stimulating for him.) The story was often about a boy named Patrick who climbs a rainbow to a magical city in the clouds. That was after I decided to stop just giving him a synopsis of The Hobbit with his name in place of Bilbo’s.

I figured he deserved better than that. He deserved an original story, and, as a writer, I should be able to give him one. I doubt Patrick and the Rainbow will ever take its place alongside The Hobbit as one of the classics of children’s literature, but I think I was able to refine it with repetition.

Then I would stand up and rock him gently while singing some songs. After I’d put him to bed a few times, he said, “Sing song.” when I stood up after finishing the story. That was unbelievably cute, and I think it also showed that he was just waiting for the story to be over so I would sing to him.

My normal lullaby repertoire was the first few tracks from the Flaming Lips’ 2002 album, Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots. That usually did the trick, although sometimes I had to venture into Side B or whatever. (I have the CD, so I don’t know where Side B begins. I feel like it begins with track #5, “In the Morning of the Magicians.” That song definitely represents a shift in the album’s mood.)

I switched it up a few times with selections from the Flaming Lips’ 1999 album, The Soft Bulletin (generally considered to be their best), but they didn’t seem to have a soporific effect. I was probably too dependent on the Flaming Lips’ catalog, but those just happened to be the only songs whose lyrics I could remember that felt like they could work as lullabies.

It felt good to be the Designated Lullaby Guy, but, the more I did it, the more anxiety crept into it. It was like every time I was putting him down, I had to convince myself that there was hope for the world so I wouldn’t be overcome by despair. It became a very emotional task for me.

I had to believe that everything would be alright in the end. I still may not believe that, but I had to convince myself that it was true, if only for a few minutes. The more relaxed I was, the easier it was to get him to fall asleep. But, even when I was relaxed, there was an undercurrent of anxiety, and I wondered if he felt that as I held him.

So, every time I put him down for his nap or for the night, I had to face my fear of the future. For me, that’s a daunting task. I don’t know if things are gonna be alright for us or me or Paddy. I worry so much about where things are heading, and that was before Trump became president. But I really wanted to come through as the Designed Lullaby Guy and defeat those fears, if only for Paddy’s sake and only for a little while.

My sister returned and spent 4 days with us, which was a huge relief. It took a lot of the child-rearing pressure off, allowing me to enjoy their company. And I didn’t have to go straight from high stress and stimulation to no stress or stimulation, which I think would’ve been a big comedown. My temp job as a mail clerk was not providing me much of either of those.

Unfortunately, my nephew’s behavior seemed to worsen with his mother’s return. “Now” suddenly entered his lexicon, as in “I want this thing NOW!” That was an unwelcome development, but it shouldn’t have been unexpected for a 2-year-old.

Since Theresa and Paddy returned to South Bend 4 weeks ago, I’ve been waiting for my new medication, Prozac, to kick in. I passed the one-month mark of taking it a week ago, but my anxiety seemed to be getting worse. I emailed the psychiatrist, and she switched me to Lexapro. Now I’m playing the waiting game with that one. It should take effect in the next few weeks and, God willing, it will ease my anxiety.

I took the unusual step of telling a barista at my favorite coffee shop (Bob’s Java Hut in Uptown) about my game of Musical Meds. I don’t usually open up that much to casual acquaintances. To my great consolation, he said he’d been on some of the same meds. It felt really good to find someone who could relate.

I’ve been employing a few different techniques to help my mental state: therapy, talking with my parents, exercise, being outside, going to Uptown, going to plays and movies, going to stand-up open mic’s, hanging out with friends. I’m quite lean in the friends department, so that last one has been the least-used technique in my arsenal, which is too bad, because it’s probably the most effective.

I got a chance to hang out my friend Tim and his co-worker last night. We were in downtown St. Paul and saw the play Baskerville at the Park Square Theater. (I highly recommend it.) That was really cool, but I was up late and didn’t get enough sleep. As a result, exercise didn’t seem like an option for me today. That’s why I’m writing.

It’s one of the techniques I hadn’t yet tried, but it seems to be working. I’ve spent all afternoon on our deck on this fine day, first writing in my notebook and now typing on my laptop. I’m better off not looking at a screen, but I Iove crafting a piece on the computer. You can really sculpt your writing on a digital format.

Lately, however, I feel my soul getting dragged down whenever I look at my phone, laptop or the TV. Just looking away from the screen can immediately lift my spirits and allow my soul to take wing. (Well, that second part is a bit of an exaggeration, but only a bit.) I’ve cut back on my screen time lately with that in mind.

I’m basically trying to write myself out of this rut, and, for now, I’ve succeeded. Hopefully, you’ve enjoyed the ride too.