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marmolady · 4 years

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The New Taylor: Part 1

READ PART 2 HERE

Book/Series: Endless Summer

Main Pairings: Estela x MC

Summary: (Endless Ending). Saving the world takes a lot out of a person. For Taylor, growing into her new self beyond La Huerta can only happen as fast as her exhausted body will allow her....

Word Count: 5541

Tagging: @saivilo, @edgydepressedchoicesthot, @sceptilemasterr, @greengroove

______

The light of the rising sun filtered through the thin curtains of Estela’s childhood bedroom, gently rousing Taylor from her slumber. She grumbled softly, nuzzling deeper into the pillow, and snuggling into her wife’s chest and belly. Somehow, she could just never get enough sleep. It was as if her body’s batteries were still relearning the art of recharging, some three?-- four now, weeks after Vaanu’s energy departed her. In exchange for looking forward to a lifetime of waking up in Estela’s arms, a little tiredness was a small price to pay.Some days, though, it felt like an insurmountable hurdle.

Full lips brushed Taylor’s cheek and jaw, whispers of kisses. How could she not smile? Her eyes opened to that beautiful, scarred face. “Mm… morning, babe.”

Estela beamed. It was hard not to when she had her arms around a miracle. Back home with her tio, the promise of a happy future was tangible, a hope that she could just about believe in.

“Good morning, hermosa.” She nibbled the lobe of Taylor’s ear. “Did you sleep better?”

Taylor yawned noisily, and took her time stretching out her body, enjoying the press of her back against her lover.

“Better, yeah.”

Nightmares had been an ongoing problem for Taylor for about as long as she could remember. Every now and then she’d have stretches where she couldn’t even seem to close her eyes without being bombarded. Images of her friends’ deaths… dying in a thousand different ways. The worst, though, the worst by far, was a memory of her own; Estela’s eyes going dull as she took a last, rattling breath, Taylor cradling her in blood-soaked arms. It haunted her in sleep; the feel of blood on her hands so horrifyingly real, usually waking her with a violent shiver up her spine.

“Mmmm…” she turned to press a kiss to Estela’s lips. “I’ll take every good night of sleep I can get. You sleep okay?”

Estela’s face was soft with affection. Her own nights’ sleep had been badly impacted by the traumatic period of Taylor’s recovery from Vaanu’s leaving her. After seeing the love of her life stop breathing again and again… letting go of the fear wasn’t something that came easy, and it made for restless nights.

“I think I made it the whole night. We might just be through the worst of it. I guess you’re not gonna die on me in the middle of the night after all.”

“Like I keep saying; you are stuck with me, Estela Montoya. No way you’re shaking me now.”

With a happy squirm, Estela squeezed Taylor from behind. “Nope-- you’re all mine.” She placed a big smooch on her wife’s rosy cheek. “Come on; I can smell breakfast cooking!”

________________________

Several weeks in, San Trobida remained a brand new world for Taylor. It was to some relief when it quickly became apparent that she didn’t especially stand out and draw attention. She slowly got to grips with her place in a world beyond La Huerta, and no one seemed to pay her much notice. Estela had told her, with a laugh, that San Trobidans were not an especially chatty people, and that this shouldn’t come as a surprise. One might expect a polite smile of greeting, but the general population were about as likely to strike up small talk as Estela was-- which was to say, not very.

Initially, Estela had been stuck to Taylor as if by glue, letting her presence be a safety net as her wife grappled with her identity in what was an often overwhelming environment. And it hadn’t just been for Taylor’s benefit. Reunited with her uncle in a post-war San Trobida, her beloved partner by her side, it seemed inevitable to Estela that the other shoe had to drop at some point. Life wasn’t this easy. It just wasn’t. Every other time she’d believed that the struggle was over, she’d been hit with another wallop to the gut. Trusting in ‘happily ever after’ wasn’t something she could turn on like a switch.

But everything hadn’t gone crashing down in flames. Nicolas had welcomed Taylor-- and Jake, for that matter-- enthusiastically into the family. Even for the short years she’d been away, Estela found a San Trobida flourishing without the choke-hold of oppression that she’d always expected to be there. Jake had hit the ground running, having already interviewed for positions with two local airlines to charter tourists-- the thought of tourists coming to San Trobida was staggering in itself. Estela had offered her services to do odd jobs for old acquaintances; something she’d done many years before, when her mother had still been around to prevent her from getting involved in the war. The vast majority of her uncle’s friends had been connected to the rebellion in some way or another, and standoffish as most were, they welcomed her earnest insistence on being useful. Everything around her spoke of recovery, and Estela found herself beginning to believe that she and Taylor were on their way too.

Taylor often accompanied her wife on these errands, taking every opportunity to soak up the essence of San Trobidan life, to make it a part of herself. She was met predominantly with wary looks and grunts, and soon worked out that it wasn’t worth taking such reactions to heart. Today, though, she was striking out on her own. If she was going to come into her own as a ‘new Taylor’, the fully-realised human being that even Vaanu themselves could not have imagined of her, she had to give herself a chance to grow.

“You have the bus timetables on your phone, right?” Estela asked, taking a moment to give her wife’s fingers a squeeze. “It’s still probably best if you don’t go into the city on your own, but you pretty much know your way to the closer towns anyway. And you can call me…”

“...at any time.” Taylor returned the squeeze. “Always.”

Estela blushed. “Yeah… that. Just, be careful. If you’re feeling tired, call. I can drop everything in a moment, but I need you to be safe.”

Whether Taylor’s batteries ever properly recharged these days, was something debatable. Even the simplest activities would knock the stuffing out of her. Walks along the beach were kept short. Afternoon naps were now something of a fact of life. Sex was slow and gentle. It was damn near driving Taylor crazy, and all she could do was tell herself that it would get better, that her lack of energy was a tiny price for the miracle of her continued presence on earth.

She took Estela’s face in her hands and kissed her sweetly. “I’ll be careful, okay? I know my limits.”

The bus ride up into the hills east of Estela’s home was a scenic one, and a trip that Taylor had now taken a couple of times during her solo explorations, as well as once, of course, with Estela. Passing agricultural plantations-- cassava, banana and sugar cane, she’d been told-- the surrounding vegetation became denser as the road carried on to the next town. Taylor hopped off at the next stop; if she was feeling up to it, there wouldn’t be too much of a trek back down the hill to the bay off which the Montoya house stood. With that in mind, she kept her ambling around town to a slow pace, and coffee in hand, soon took to the walking trails through the surrounding forest.

Almost certainly as a result of feeling so at home in the wilderness of La Huerta, it was in nature that Taylor felt she was at her best-- it had always been on hikes through the jungle or along the coast that she could really get lost in thought and ponder the big questions. Now, though, her body just couldn’t seem to keep up with her mental needs. When she sat down upon the forest floor for a breather-- surely after not even a quarter of an hour of walking-- her legs were like jelly.

Goddammit.

Frustrated, Taylor distracted herself by taking a picture of an odd flower. She’d been collecting snaps of just about anything in nature she came across that stood out as different to what she was used to on La Huerta. If Estela or Nicolas couldn’t identify it, she’d hit their old handbook of San Trobidan botany. It was a small hobby to keep her occupied; at least she could keep on learning even if she was usually too tired to do a lot physically. She’d also taken up knitting-- though she had a way to go before she’d really got the hang of it. Besides poring over books and keeping up a barrage of questions about life here, there was not a whole lot else for her to do. She’d had a couple of driving lessons, but like everything else, they had to be kept short. She’d usually go along with Estela when she was running errands, but if she wasn’t painfully aware of how weak and vulnerable she presently was, getting a good view of her wife’s vigour and strength did nothing to make her feel any better. Of course, there wasn’t a hint of judgement-- but Taylor was so often left feeling useless and unattractive. Estela had fallen for an energetic woman who had taken life by the horns, and right now, it felt like that woman didn’t exist.

She took her time to recover; sending a couple of pictures to Diego who’d been getting an almost blow-by-blow account of her new life in San Trobida, and doing a few easy stretches. Estela was convinced that working on core strength was the best way forward for Taylor’s rehabilitation; once her body was stronger, then they’d work on cardio and stamina.

Limbered up, Taylor walked back to the bus stop. Dearly as she’d wanted to make the trek home, something that just a couple of months ago would have been a piece of cake, she was not fool enough to think it might happen today. Getting off the bus a couple of stops before home was the compromise she’d have to live with for the time being. She plugged in her earphones and watched the world go by-- listening to a soundtrack she’d inherited as a mish-mash of her friends’ tastes. When she hopped off the bus, that beat kept her putting one foot in front of the other, a steady rhythm. From the footpath by the road up the hill, she could already see an easy route home; the sparkling sea providing a beautiful backdrop that she’d never have fully appreciated through a window. She could feel her body flagging with every step, but it was worth it.

You got this, Taylor. All downhill from here.

As Taylor turned the last corner toward home, her legs shaking, a small figure skittered out across the road and towards the beach. A small sickly-looking dog. Strays were not uncommon near the towns and beaches; Estela had said there used to be many more around the place, that with the war over there was more scope for focus on animal welfare. The fact that this one looked like a strong gust of wind could finish it off spurred her.

Well, I guess I can make a slight detour.

She hastily tucked away her earphones and crossed the street, whistling. Most of the dogs that showed up were seasoned beggars with no qualms about approaching humans. Chances were, this little one would come running. Huffing and puffing her way slowly to the beachside village, she found the dog trundling along the behind the now-closed bar. On a longer look, Taylor noticed that its forelegs were oddly bent, facing in opposite directions as it loped, and the scruffiness that had caught her eye was down to great patches of hair loss that accentuated a thin frame.

Poor little fella…. She gave a low whistle and crouched. “Hey, l’il guy… uh, girl actually. Hey, l’il girl. You must be hungry….”

The dog looked around, eyes wary, as Taylor wobbled precariously. It gave a small but gruff bark, and moved further away. Taylor huffed; if the animal didn’t clearly need a vet, she’d have left it be. After her walk down from the bus stop, her head was spinning and she wasn’t sure how much longer she’d be able to keep putting one foot in front of the other. Maybe… maybe she should just come back for the tiny dog later. Then, as Taylor made to get up, she stumbled and fell.

Fuck.

Suddenly, it seemed pretty clear that the mangy little dog was not the one in most immediate physical peril. Taylor gave a weak yell and kicked out the dirt. To her alarm, her vision blurred horribly, and she went from ‘a little bit weak’ to ‘I could faint right here’ dizzy in frightening speed.

Okay, head between your legs. Deep breaths… deep….

The world swam. Taylor could just about make out the dog barking in the distance… then all went black.

_____________________

Taylor woke slowly, her head aching. The room around her seemed to spin, and it took several long moments before she recognised it as Estela’s bedroom. Propped up at the head of the bed, she’d clearly been brought home by someone after…. Crap, what happened?

“There is water for you on the bedside table,” came the sharp voice of Nicolas Montoya.

“W-what happened? I fainted? I think I… fainted.”

“Thankfully you were found by someone who recognised you as a guest of mine. Now, sit up slowly and take small sips of water. Estelita will be home soon-- I would much prefer she is not coming home to her idiot wife looking like death warmed up.”

Her lips dry, Taylor swallowed, still trying to catch her brain up with whatever had just happened. She’d been chasing after a stray dog, and then…. God, Estela was gonna freak. She mumbled a ‘thank you’ for the water, for the apparent rescue, and tried to hold off from shuddering at the bitter disappointment in her uncle-in-law’s voice. He was pissed. A strong part of Taylor was indignant; she wasn’t a fool, but this was new.

“Drink.”

There was no arguing with that tone. Taylor took a sip, then another. She tried to think. She’d been out walking and… her body had just given out on her. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t known she was exhausted, but….

“It happened so fast. I was on my way home, and I was tired, and then I just… crashed. Where’s Estela--? Does she know I’m okay--?”

“I didn’t take you for a dumbass--”

Anger flared in Taylor’s gut. That was not fair. “Hey-- I passed out. I’m not stupid, I just--”

“No? You are ill, wandering around defenseless… by your own choice, no? Knowing that your wife would drop everything to get you home when you are clearly incapacitated. I give you some credit; I assume you know this is not the safest corner of the world? It seems like you are a maldito idiota to me!”

Taylor could feel her whole body trembling uncontrollably. “You can try, but you’re not gonna make me feel any worse than I already do. I made a bad call, and I’m paying for it. I don’t expect you to trust me; but I learned a fucking hard lesson today.”

Nicolas turned away, seething.

“If I thought it was a risk, I wouldn’t have done it. I would never put Estela through that kind of worry. Not again.”

“Well, we are fortunate indeed it wasn’t she who found you collapsed in the dirt.” Nicolas’ eyes flashed as he looked back over his shoulder at Taylor. “Do you have any idea--”

A creaking signaled the front door swinging open. There was a pounding of frantic footsteps on hardwood floor and then….

“Taylor!”

Estela rushed in, falling to her knees beside the bed where Taylor was propped up.

“’Stel…” Taylor’s eyes welled as both relief and shame washed over her all at once. I’m so sorry.

“¡Dios! Me asustaste hasta la muerte! What were you thinking? It’s okay, just… just let me look at you….”

The tone of panic and the tears rolling down Estela’s cheeks made Taylor’s heart sink down to her toes. This was the last thing she’d wanted.

Nicolas scowled. “Well, she’s in safe hands now. Estelita, I will be in the office if you need anything.”

“Thanks, Tio.” Estela did not turn as her uncle walked away; she had eyes only for Taylor. Tentatively, she climbed up onto the bed, settling down gently beside her wife.

“I really thought I had more stamina than tha--”

“Shh.” Estela put a finger to Taylor’s lips. “Let me check you over.”

Too exhausted to struggle, Taylor leaned back against the head of the bed, letting Estela inspect her for any signs of physical distress. She remained quiet, feeling the tension that hung between them, tension that shouldn’t be there.

Finally, Estela sighed, her dark eyes forlorn. “Looks like no harm done. You got lucky. But you can’t just push your luck like that. I can’t believe you’d just--”

“It was an honest mistake. Part of being human, or at least that’s what I’m told.”

“It was a stupid mistake!”

It was as though an icy bucket of water had been dropped on Taylor’s head. Estela wasn’t just hurt, she was… angry?

“Hey! I have been lectured enough by your uncle, and I am not gonna take it from you. I know you’re scared, but this is new to me. I’m still working out my limits.”

Estela winced, immediately looking ashamed for snapping. She curled up her knees to her chest and stared straight ahead. For a long while, she sat that way, unmoving.

Taylor watched her wife with concern. Where was she? Reliving the long nights in the Elyys’tel medical centre, a hair’s breadth from losing her partner forever? Or was she even further away; remembering the shattering impact of loss and fearing it touching again?

“Taylor,” Estela said hoarsely, “I can’t… I won’t lose you.”

“No. You won’t.”

“So, don’t do that to me again.That was irresponsible and dumb, and that… that wasn’t fair.”

Hurt, Taylor tried hard not to pout. She wasn’t doing this on purpose; surely Estela knew that?

“We both know that you can’t look me in the eye and tell me that you’ve never overestimated what you were capable of. I made a mistake, okay?”

Estela’s nostrils flared. It was difficult to argue with that. Sometime in the future, when he’d cooled off, her tio would no doubt laugh at the thought of her having a taste of all the worry she put him through. “Look, it might seem peaceful here, but beneath the surface, things are still broken. This is not a place that’s forgiving of stupid mistakes. If anything happened to you now, I-- I think it would kill me.”

“I know, ‘Stel. And I was being careful. I thought I was being careful enough…”

As she looked into Taylor’s face, Estela’s expression gradually softened. This sucked. It really sucked. But that wasn’t down to Taylor. She was scared too. Gently, Estela reached out a hand and stroked her wife’s cheek. “You’re safe now. That’s what matters.”

Pressing a tender kiss to Estela’s wrist, Taylor felt herself relax. They were okay. Both kind of freaked out, but they were freaked out together.

“It’s like I don’t know my own body anymore. I feel absolutely useless; I can’t even trust myself, not after what just happened. It’s… kinda shit. ”

Estela huffed knowingly, and stroked Taylor’s hair. “It’s a lot shit. I’m sorry for taking it out on you. The last thing you need is to be stressing out ‘cause I’m being an asshole.”

“You? Never. You’ve had to be scared for so long; you’d have to be a robot if you kept it together all the time.”

“Hmm. Well, if I’ve gotta let off steam, that’s what a punching bag is for. I don’t wanna hurt you. Not ever.” Estela stroked her calloused fingers through Taylor’s hair. It helped to calm the both of them.“Did Tio really chew you out? If he thinks he can lecture you--”

Taylor laughed dryly. “Nothing I can’t handle. It… kinda sucks that he thinks I’m a complete idiot, but I’ll work on that.”

The hurt, though, could not be hidden.

“Carińa, you have nothing to prove. When Tio gets protective he can be… well, pretty damn unpleasant.” Estela sighed softly. “When I found out Mom was dead, it… it’s hard to explain how bad it was. I was unreachable. And obviously it took a long, long time for me to even be close to the person I was before. I think when he found you like that, he must have had a moment when he thought it was happening again. It doesn’t excuse him being an ass to you, but you should know it’s not your fault. You’re not what’s wrong here. Jesus, you’re the opposite of what’s wrong. Okay?”

Taylor found her wife’s hand and squeezed. “I know.” For a little while, she was quiet, just taking comfort in Estela… her being there, her touch. That love was a privilege. “Your tio just… absolutely loves you to pieces. Like you’re his everything. For him to feel as though he’d lost you; it must have been something like torture.”

Her eyes closed, Estela breathed deeply against Taylor’s head, soothed by the scent of her hair. She’d let go of the guilt, but profound sadness lingered. The years since her mother’s death had been little but immeasurable pain for Nicolas, making even the triumphant rebellion hollow.

“I could never thank him enough. No matter what, he supported me, he had my back. Even when I was stuck on a mission that would take away the last person he loved.” She found herself enveloped in a hug, Taylor gently bringing her to her chest and cradling her head there. “I love him. More than I can say. More than I think I’ll ever work out how to show him. But I think… he knows. We’ve been through too much for him not to. I know I fought it; I didn’t wanna risk you even if it meant the world… but he gets to heal now. With me.” Estela looked up, pink dusting her cheeks as she looked into Taylor’s shimmering blue eyes. “You did that. And there’s nothing that anyone could ever give to compare to that. You’re my hero.”

Taylor found herself sniffing, faced with shining sincerity. She didn’t feel like a hero, but for as long as Estela needed her to be that person, she’d try to live up to it. “You’re mine.”

“So, mi querida, it’s gonna be okay.” Estela pulled herself up, so that Taylor could lean on her in turn. “How are you feeling?”

“Actually, not so bad. Like, I desperately needed rest, but at least I seem to be able to bounce back pretty well.”

Estela sighed thoughtfully. The ordeal had been a fright, but it looked like no harm had been done. “You should tell Michelle what happened. She’ll want to know.”

It was hard for Taylor not to groan at the thought of causing even more worry, but she nodded her agreement. Ever since Vaanu left her, she’d been nothing but a burden.

“Actually, what did happen? Tio said you were passed out on the beach-- I thought you were going up into the hills.”

“I did. And I was all pumped up to trek back down from the town--,” Catching a horrified look, Taylor couldn’t help but chuckle. “--cool your jets; you know I’m not that stubborn. I realised pretty quickly that my ambitions were way too high. So, I got off the bus a little ways before our stop, and I walked it. I did it. I mean, it knocked the stuffing out of me, but I did it.”

“...And then, something possessed you to take a stroll along the beach?”

Taylor felt her cheeks flush. Okay, this was the part where I get a little foolish. “There was this little stray dog. Tiny thing, and it looked so sickly. Apparently, the bleeding heart in me jumped out, and then I was on a mission. I think the thought of actually helping someone, and not just being this weak, lost little person just… just sparked something in me. Pretty sure the adrenaline just from that got me to the beach, because when I stopped moving, the fatigue hit me like a train.”

A little smile came to Estela’s face, and it made Taylor blush all the more.

“I know, I know, apparently I’ve got myself a hero complex. Maybe a little bit stupid, but my heart’s in the right place?”

Estela just laughed and held her wife even tighter. “How am I meant to argue with that? One pig-headed crusader to another; it’s not the worst thing you can be. I love you, Taylor.”

Taylor closed her eyes, breathing in the familiarity, the comfort, that came of having Estela so near. Her whole world, her everything. All that she had to give in return was so… small. Helpless and small.

“Hey…,” Estela said gently. “It is going to be okay. I know you’re all right physically, but… you’re sad.”

“I thought I was getting better. I don’t want to be a damsel in distress for the rest of my life. It’s not as if I even know who I am now, but that ain’t it.”

Estela tenderly kissed Taylor’s brow, her own furrowed with concern. “You are getting better. I know it doesn’t feel like it, but from where you came from, this now is amazing. You’re stronger even than just last week. However long it takes, I’ll be there with you. You know, ready to give you a fireman-carry to safety.”

“I guess there’s gotta be some perks to being a damsel in distress. I can’t deny it; that would be kinda hot.”

“Kinda?”

“A lot. A lot hot. I’m sorry, have you seen your arms?”

To Taylor’s relief, the atmosphere had shifted; Estela waggled her eyebrows and giggled, eliciting a weak but grateful smile.

“You’ll be back to kicking ass in no time. If it helps, we can focus more on your physical training-- at least once you’ve recovered from this little, uh, episode. But, um, that little dog you found….”

“If we can find it, I really want to help. Maybe there’s the selfish aspect of me wanting to feel capable of being at least a little bit helpful to someone, but I want to get it fixed up. It-- I think it was a girl-- looked pretty bad.”

“I always wanted to bring home strays when I was little; Tio Nicolas thought he had enough responsibility with a kid around the place, so that was never gonna happen. I’m sure he won’t mind another guest, now. Or at least, he wouldn’t say no. Do you want to get a dog, mi amor?”

“It hadn’t actually crossed my mind what we’d do with her once we brought her home and got her healthy, but… yeah. I think I’d like to have a dog.” Despite all her worries, all her fears, all her shame, Taylor couldn’t stop the small smile that lit her features. If she could somehow claw her way back to a semblance of her old self, what lay ahead looked amazing. “Look at us, ‘Stel; already growing our family.”

A giddy grin plastered across Estela’s face served to sweep Taylor back up into her own insecurities; those voiced and those yet hidden. This was supposed to be their happy ending; after everything her lover had been through, it was all Taylor wanted to make it happen. But now… was she even enough?

This might be as good as it gets. Can you really expect her to be there to catch you when you just can’t stop falling?

Estela stood up and stretched, but gave Taylor a look when she made to follow suit.“We’re not going anywhere until you’re properly rested. I’ll make you some lunch. But then, we’ll see if we can help out your little friend. What do you think?”

Taylor frowned.

What do I think?

I think… I’m scared I’m going to hold you back, when you’re capable of so much.

I’m scared your uncle’s only ever gonna see me as another burden for you to carry.

I’m scared you’re gonna wake up one day and realise I’m not the same person you fell in love with.

She swallowed hard. There was so much love in Estela’s dark eyes, and it was shining there just for her.

I won’t stop fighting to be what you deserve. We’re so close to happy ever after, and I won’t let you down now.

“I think I’ll be up to that. We’ve got saving the world under our belt; rescuing a stray dog is gonna be a cakewalk. Let’s do this.”

#endless summer #playchoices #estela x mc #estela montoya

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self-critical-automaton · 5 years

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Whats Been Going On With Me Lately

So basicly the TLDR is:

I’ve been super ill in weird and new brain ways since about mid-december, when withdrawal from my antidepressants resulted in strange intense psychological events, and I’ve been dealing with the fallout and day-to-day distress ever since. I’m terrified that i might have suffered permanent alterations/damage to my mental state, but who can say.

Details under the cut for anyone who wants to know how ive been doing, or wants to hear about what happens when you quit a high dose of fluoxetine cold turkey after five or six years.

Or for anyone who is going through something similar and wants some info/hope, since withdrawal experiences seem to be super idiosyncratic and variable and its almost impossible to find detailed descriptions.

I’d really appreciate it being read, esp. by people in my life, but dont feel compelled or whatever idk i dont make the rules but srsly please read it if you can it took a lot of time and effort

PS: this and several other articles on that blog were a huge help to me getting through the first couple phases, if you’re having trouble with withdrawal please go read PPS: fine to reblog, in fact please do

In 2017 I started getting painful physical side effects from my antidepressants, which gradually got worse until in lateish-2018 I decided to stop taking them outright. Everyone ever says you shouldn’t quit antidepressants cold-turkey, and they are right, but I’d been taking them inconsistently due to the pain, and I was beginning to suspect they’d stopped helping me anyway, so it seemed the best option.

I quit in probably mid-October and for a couple months felt much the same as usual, but then around the 13th of December it all kicked off. At first I had no idea what was happening, and I thought I was suffering a sudden and intense flu coinciding with a bad depressive spike, but after a couple days I figured out that withdrawal can be offset by weeks or months in rare cases, and decided this is what must be happening. That first round of Withdrawal Time had a few soft-edged but distinct phases (lasting about a week each), and I went through by far the worst experience in my entire life, closely followed by the second-worst and then third-worst.

Round One Start! Phase One: intense existential dread

It kicked of very suddenly, around the 13th december, getting rapidly worse over a couple days. I was paralysed with fear as my mind sunk into thinking in infinite circles, unable to do anything other but endlessly contemplate and debate morbid philosophical topics, forced to confront the inevitability of death, emptiness of life, terror of oblivion, impossibility of afterlife, and so on. I also suffered sensory experiences similar to those ive heard described by people who take drugs like LSD, or very severe fever dreams. Sensations of expanded perception, becoming trapped in imaginary scenarios on other planes, that sort of thing.

In this phase I ate almost nothing, and over that week lost 4 or 5 kg. I also had some flu symptoms, mostly as fevers and chills, and could ony, really sleep in short bursts of a couple hours each. There was very little I could safely occupy myself with, as almost all media (books, games, film, fiction and nonfiction, everything really) would in some way trigger me into thinking about an existential topic, and then the terror would resume. I spent what time I could working to fix the problems with my life that I had suddenly become aware of (my social isolation, my medial issues, my mental health, etc), so I made a lot of phone calls, doctor visits, and applied to some mental health counseling services. I also started looking for avenues to make friends and acquaintances online and in person, and did a lot of research on antidepressant withdrawal.

Towards the end of this phase, the dread got more manageable and began to ease off, and I found I could play simple puzzle games to help occupy myself during the day. Listening to certain podcasts also was a source of relief and distraction. However, things remained bad in the morning and evenings, and I ended up referring to these times as ‘morning hell’ and ‘evening hell’. Also, I began to keep a basic daily log of my symptoms.

Phase Two: generalized anxiety

As I segued into this phase, the existential dread mostly withdrew during the day, leaving instead a sense of severe generalized anxiety. I’ve had issues with anxiety in the past, but it’s always been event-related or social, so Generalized Anxiety Disorder style anxiety was an interesting addition to my mental health cocktail. I still suffered the existential dread, but primarily during the Morning and Evening Hells, and as occasional spikes during the day. Mostly, I felt like it was off to one side somewhere, and felt anxiety about thinking about existential topics.

I got little done, but was able to occupy myself with podcasts, housework, simple games, and (oddly enough) Star Trek: The Original Series. Almost anything else I tried would worsen the anxiety, and threaten to trigger existential dreads. During this time I started sleeping more normally, but also began waking every night with chest pains and leg pains, which of course caused a great deal of anxiety about heart issues and blood clots. I also began to feel like I had begun to ‘wake up’ after having sleepwalked through the past year or so.

Phase Three: misc badfeels and weird sensory effects

As phase 2 segued into this one, around christmas day, the anxiety started to recede during the day. I’d get a window of safety varying from half an hour to a few hours, usually starting in the early afternoon. I began to leave the house more, going for walks with my partner, which could occupy me safely during bad feeling times. During those windows, I often still felt bad, but it felt like a ‘normal’ bad, like depression and ennui, rather than the very active generalized anxiety or severe dread. I also began to be able to read again, and to play games more widely. I committed to attending some local social events (some board games/RPG things, and a support group) and mostly tried to get on with life.

I was frequently quite sluggish and slow, and didn't usually get much work done, even napping occasionally. As my days improved, my nights worsened, with bad sleep and bad dreams. I would also have odd brief sensory effects, such as hallucinations and waking dreams. For the first time since withdrawal started, I began to worry that I was slipping backwards and getting worse again. Up until that point, I had felt like, as awful as I was feeling, there was a slow but consistent improvement.

By early January I was having inconsistent bouts of the existential stuff and the generalized anxiety in the day, but looking back probably not as intensely as in the earlier phases.

Phase Four: inconsistent rehash

Phase four was similar to phase three, except without the consistency that phase three had (at least earlier on) of ‘morning bad, day safe, evening bad’. It also lasted longer than the ‘about a week’ of previous phases. I had ups and downs of general bad feelings throughout the day, with occasional spikes or longer bouts of existential fear or generalized anxiety, and I developed an aversion to going to bed (as most mornings would feel worse than evenings). I usually slept badly, and I started waking up during what I’m pretty sure were sleep-panic-attacks an hour or so after going to sleep. Chest pains and so on were very common and worrying, so I talked to the doctor a lot and ended up on some cardio waiting lists.

I had some depressive episodes which felt very much like the kind of depressive episodes I’ve had over my life, and about the same topics, though more intensely. It was almost comforting, in a back-to-normal sort of way.

Frankly, this whole phase felt like a random jumble of previous phase symptoms and pre-withdrawl mental health stuff, almost like dimming lightbulbs on an old electrical system, fading in and out and going on and off randomly and unpredictably.

Towards the end of January, I had a bad bout of flu, but during that time I felt a lot better in mental health terms. I don’t know if this was due to the distraction of a big obvious ‘thing to survive’ or if it was a natural upswing as part of the arc of that phase. After I got over the flu, I had a couple days of existential stuff reasserting itself, and I was worried that it was a second bout of Phase One, but I stopped recording my log on the 5th of February, so it’s hard to recall anything past this.

Interstitial Period

I’m pretty sure that for most of February, I felt ‘back to normal’, and was feeling more-or-less how I had been before withdrawal kicked off. That said, my capacity to occupy myself has not really recovered. I’m occasionally able to play games or read, but I often have a bad sense of ennui. This may be my natural yearly Seasonal Affective Disorder, or a natural depressive episode (I have consistently if infrequently had times where I’m unable to occupy myself and suffer ennui, just as part of being a depressed person), but I’ve not had one this long before.

I have a strong fear that my cognition/way of being/mental state has been permanently altered by that first phase, that it in some way ‘opened my eyes’ and now I will never be able to go back to how I was. I’m scared that I might never be free of this existential dread lurking in the back of my mind, but also trying to dissemble, forget, or distract myself feels like a foolish naivety. Its something we all have to face, so postponing the inevitable is pointless, but also I can’t overcome or accept it, so I’m trapped in a limbo.

Round Two?

After feeling mostly ’back to normal’ for a while, I’ve been having some bad times again. For about a week or so (end of febuary/beginning of march), I’ve been having existential fears and the ‘big mix of generalized bad feeling’ again, on and off during the day, and especially in mornings/evenings. I was very afraid that it was the beginning of a downslope into a full repeat of this entire cycle, but it’s been pretty consistent so far, rather than getting worse.

I’m hoping that this is indeed Round Two, and that its just a lot less bad than Round One, which would be consistent with what I’ve read about this stuff.

Final Thoughts

Phase one was the worst thing ive gone through in my life, but on good days I feel somewhat optimistic that it’s had a ‘rock bottom’ kind of effect, that I can find some positive things to come out of it.

It’s given me some perspective, and it’s helped me come out of a sleepwalking time in my life. I feel what i’m missing in my life much more keenly (social isolation/ lack of friends, lack of passion, lack of purpose/drive/meaning in my life), but I’m also able to work on them to some extent for the first time in years.

That said, I know these take a lot of time and work to fix, but it’s hard not to look at the glacially slow progress i’ve made as ‘no progress in basically three months’, and sink back into the things-will-never-get-better-so-why-try kind of depression.

I’m gonna keep trying, though.

#mental health #Withdrawal #mental #health #depression #anxiety #antidepressants #ssri #recovery

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