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💊 When Your Body Stages a Coup: Surviving Withdrawal from Your Legally Prescribed Meds

So picture this: you’re minding your business, taking your meds like a responsible adult, when suddenly—boom.
Pharmacy delay. Doctor out of town. Prior authorization “pending.” Ah the setback of psych meds.
And your nervous system? It’s like, “Cool cool cool… let’s panic about everything now.”

Let’s be clear right out of the gate:
This isn’t addiction.
This is what happens when your body gets used to something your doctor prescribed, and then it disappears faster than your motivation on a Monday.

For people managing chronic pain, ADHD, bipolar disorder, fibromyalgia, anxiety—basically anything that makes life feel like juggling flaming swords—missing meds can wreck your whole week. Sometimes your whole month. It used to be pain meds were controlled, well I got off all them and then I find out one of my meds for my mental state is controlled too.

So here’s the practical, not-patronizing guide to surviving it.


🧠 1. Know What’s Happening — It’s Not “Just in Your Head”

Your body doesn’t care that you’re being responsible. It just knows chemistry changed.
Withdrawal from meds like antidepressants, or mood stabilizers can cause:

  • Flu-like symptoms (the fever, chills, and “oh God, why” kind)
  • Dizziness or brain zaps
  • Stomach chaos (you know what I mean)
  • Anxiety that feels like being trapped in your own skin
  • Crying at car insurance commercials

You’re not crazy, dramatic, or weak. You’re literally detoxing from a medication your body depended on.


🩺 2. Call the Pharmacy and Doctor — Every. Single. Day.

Yes, it’s annoying. Yes, they hate it. Do it anyway.
Sometimes the squeaky wheel really does get the refill.

Ask for:

  • A partial fill (even a few days’ worth helps)
  • Generic or alternative options
  • If your doctor can bridge it with samples or a similar med

If you can’t get through to your doctor, ask to speak to the nurse or pharmacist directly—they can often light a fire under the process faster than anyone else.


🧘‍♀️ 3. Temporary Coping Tools (That Actually Help)

You can’t cure withdrawal, but you can soften the edges.
Try:

  • Hydration like it’s your job. Electrolytes help your body flush junk out faster.
  • Protein and complex carbs. Blood sugar swings make symptoms worse.
  • Body temp tricks: cool showers for feverish restlessness, warm baths for muscle tension.
  • Magnesium and vitamin B supplements (if cleared by your doc).
  • Ginger tea or mints for nausea.
  • Noise + comfort TV. Distract your brain from itself. (“SVU’ or ‘Chicago’ shows is a favorite here.)

And yes, sleep whenever you can. Withdrawal can feel like a bad breakup between your brain and your body, and you’ll need rest to survive the drama.


🚨 4. Know When It’s Too Much

If your symptoms go beyond “ugh” and start looking like “dangerous,” it’s time to get help.
Go to urgent care or call your doctor if you experience:

  • Suicidal thoughts
  • Chest pain
  • Severe confusion or disorientation
  • Tremors, seizures, or blood pressure spikes

No guilt, no hesitation. This isn’t weakness—it’s biology in meltdown mode.


💬 5. You’re Not a “Druggie.” You’re a Human Being.

Let’s kill that stigma right now.
There’s a difference between dependency and addiction—one means your body adapted to a med, the other means there’s misuse or compulsion.

If you’re following your prescription and life implodes when you miss it, that’s not moral failure. That’s chemistry. And it deserves compassion, not judgment.


🌿 Bonus: What to Do Once You’re Back on Track

  • Ask about tapering. Even a few days’ gap can make restarting rough.
  • Set up refill reminders. Calendar, app, sticky note, carrier pigeon—whatever works.
  • Request overlap fills (some pharmacies will fill a few days early if you ask).
  • Stock an emergency buffer once you can, even if it’s just a few days’ worth.

And most importantly: forgive yourself for the mess that isn’t your fault.
Medication management in modern healthcare is like playing whack-a-mole blindfolded. You’re doing great just by surviving it. Dependency is’nt addiction. Til next time gang, take care of yourselves, and each other!


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Trying to Be a Present Parent When You’re Dissociating

(Or: “Sorry, kid, my brain’s floating three feet to the left right now.”)

Some days, I’m Supermom(ish).
Other days, I’m just a sentient pile of laundry pretending to be a person.
And then there are the days I’m trying to parent through a fog so thick it feels like I’m watching my life on a 5-second delay. Do you ever do that? Your nodding along, it appears you are in agreement only to blurt out an answer to a rhetorical question from two topics ago and its just stares and crickets? No? just me?

That’s dissociation — and it’s not just zoning out. It’s a real and very common symptom of trauma, stress, and neurodivergence.


🧠 What Dissociation Actually Is

Dissociation is your brain’s way of going, “Nope. Too much. We’re going to detach for survival now.” Believe it or not I learned this when my heart stopped. I have ZERO recollection of at least a month on either side, and I hope I never get those memories back because they had to be scary for my brain to hide them like that.

Dissociation can feel like:

  • You’re watching yourself from outside your body
  • Time is warped or unreal
  • The world looks… fake. Like how they depict it in movies with people in your face that look like characters from a dream
  • Emotions are muted, or you’re totally numb

According to the National Alliance on Mental Illness (NAMI), dissociation can affect people with PTSD, anxiety, depression, ADHD, and bipolar disorder — basically, a Greatest Hits list of what I’m working with.

And yes, it can show up in chronic pain conditions too. Research in the Journal of Trauma & Dissociation (2020) found that people with fibromyalgia reported higher dissociation symptoms than control groups — likely because living in constant pain is its own form of trauma.


👩‍👧 But What Does That Look Like as a Parent?

It looks like:

  • Nodding at your teen’s story but realizing you didn’t process a word of it
  • Looking at the kitchen sink and wondering how the dishes multiplied like gremlins
  • Holding your kid’s hand while mentally floating somewhere in 2004
  • Hearing “Mom?” for the third time before realizing you are Mom. Or your name, anything someone has to say three times before it registers.

And when your kid’s autistic and needs you fully present — or your brain’s ADHD and skittering like George in a glitter store — that’s a special brand of guilt.


🧷 What Helps Me Come Back

I’m still figuring it out. But here’s what works — sometimes:

  • Name it: “I’m dissociating” sounds weird at first, but saying it out loud grounds me. It also helps my teen understand it’s not personal. It has helped countless times with hubby.
  • Cold water or texture changes: Ice packs, textured putty, or touching something rough brings me back. Try keeping a wash cloth in the freezer.
  • Mindless movement: Folding towels. Walking in circles. Tapping my fingers. Rhythm helps. Fidget spinners. Keep a pencil and paper and doodle. Anything mindless.
  • Breathing and narration: “I’m sitting. My feet are on the floor. I can hear the fan.” It’s cheesy. It works. Its a variation of a tact professionals use, five things you can see, four things you can hear, etc.

💬 If This Is You Too…

You’re not broken.
You’re not a bad parent.
You’re not failing because your brain protects you in weird, inconvenient ways.

You’re doing the best you can. And you’re still showing up. Even if it’s in pieces, even if you’re floating — you’re here.

That counts for something. Til next time gang, take care of yourselves and each other.