Breaking Up after 5.5 Years

September 15, 2013

Today is Sunday.  Two days ago, on Friday, I celebrated my one-week anniversary of a breakup. 

This relationship had been going on for 5 and a half years. 

I had been trying to end this relationship for the last 6 months, and struggled.  I had to wean myself off.  I had myself fooled into thinking that I still needed the daily contact, as if it was a comfort, a safety zone for me.  I had come to not even know how to function without having it in my life.

So, startinAg this last spring, for 3 months or so, I was torn.  I knew I wanted to challenge myself, be my own person, to not need it in my life anymore.  Then I decided to be brave and tested myself to see if I could start surviving on my own, learning to be on my own again.

I started by reducing the intensity, the dosage I was allowing myself to partake of.

Then, I reduced contact.  I limited myself to only making contact once every other day.  At first, I had to fight.  I felt the pain, the cloudiness, the murkiness of the withdrawal. 

For the next several weeks, I sometimes felt that it was too much to do it on my own, and would run back to the pacifying arms of the embrace I had come to know so well.

 But I kept fighting.  Deep down, I had known for a while that it was time for it to come to an end.

I reduced contact even more, limiting myself to only once every 2 days.

This was where I saw my strength starting to shine through.  I realized with each passing day that I truly had gained the skills, confidence, and courage I needed to be on my own.  I had learned that being on my own is more difficult sometimes, but I also saw that if I just let my patience rule my will, I really was capable of processing any life event, emotion, or circumstance, on my own two feet. 

It came to the point that whenever I did make contact, I felt no different; no worse, no better.  It made no difference to me whether I made contact or not.  I became immersed in my daily routine and my personal goals, and I really didn’t even notice when I hadn’t made contact.  I had to actively remind myself, “Hey, try and make time for that today.”  It was no longer part of my routine.

 So I ended it. 

 On Friday, September 6, I started counting.  I started counting the number of days I could go on my own.  I think I had actually been on my own for about a week at that point, with no contact, but it was subconscious.  I wanted to be fully aware, to have a date, a bookmark on this page of my life so that I could look back many years from now and know when the day was that I finally said goodbye.

For the last 5 and a half years, I had been taking antidepressant and anti-anxiety medication. It is the relationship with this medication that I ended.

The latest one, Pristiq, I had been taking for 1 year and 9 months. 

Before that, it was Lexapro (which didn’t go well), and then Paxil, which I took the longest, for over 2 and half years. 

 Paxil ended up being my happy medium, the one that gave my brain the chemical balance that it needed.  It was a great medication.  It quite possibly saved my life. 

 But I don’t need it anymore.*

 I have learned the coping skills and life management skills that I need in order to do life on my own.  I have re-created the chemical balance in my brain by creating a life that makes me happy, a life I believe to be filled with purpose.  Between my friendships, other relationships with other people, my Christian faith, and my ability and desire to be a lifelong learner about various topics, including the human body and mind, and physical, emotional, and mental health wellness, I have all I need to be successful.

 And today I celebrate that.

((*Don’t worry! This decision was made alongside my wonderful primary care physician.  It was a carefully monitored process. ))