Somehow, I don’t know how, I mis-read the instructions on my bottle of Venlafaxine (generic for Effexor) XR and wound up amping my already high dose to nearly double what’s recommended for human consumption. I’ve been reading since I was two. Like, HOW do you mess that up.
Anyway, not only did I *completely* mess that up, I (unwittingly) spent a few weeks that way.
So I ran out early, of course, and decided to just go ahead and cut myself back down where I ought to be with no taper. WHAT COULD GO WRONG!!
Ladies and gentlemen, I can now personally certify that hatcheting off 300 milligrams of Effexor, a psychoactive drug with true physical withdrawal and an awkward half-life, is not a good idea, under any circumstances, for anyone. Go here and do a page search for “Venlafaxine”. Go on, now. Good times, right? I’m goddamn lucky I didn’t get hauled back to the ER.
Although the sudden worsening of depressive symptoms is especially welcomed when received alongside a wad of unpayable medical bills from June’s stay at McLean, I have to say that my favorite part so far has been the full-body brain zaps. The who what now? Allow me to expound!
You know that feeling you have when you’re falling in a dream, and you wake with a start the split-second before landing? Like, you can almost feel the bones crush with ground but JUSTalmost / NOTquite? Imagine that times 15, and it’s happening while your head is enclosed in a skintight pleather mask with a brushed silver zipper – large teeth – securing the front seam from chin to hairline.
Now imagine someone ripping that sucker open. Hard. Right as you land.
And maybe someone also has your skull inside a paint mixer for a breath or two.
If you’ve ever succeeded with Salvia divinorum, it’s kind of like that, except awful. It feels SO bizarre and SO unpleasant and only happens (thank God) at night. But man. I’m totally not doing this ever again.
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