Personal Log #6: Dr. Jekyll & Mr. Snide

After a more than a decade on antidepressants, I discontinued my use of Wellbutrin earlier this year. My main rationale for doing this was personal growth. I felt that I finally possessed the experience, perspective and self-knowledge needed to survive without the assistance of pharmaceuticals. For the most part, I think I’ve fared quite well in an un-medicated existence.

My main complaint about being on meds is that I was never able to fully experience my emotions. Not the “good” ones, not the “bad” ones, not the subtle ones that exist the gray matter in between. Going off the drugs had almost an immediate effect on my emotions. You know what they say about being careful what you ask for? I’ve been living that old adage since January.

I now feel all my emotions, for better or worse. It was a gift, to be sure. It had been so long since I’d experienced the full effects of my low-grade depression that I neglected to consider that other symptoms might return. One that came back with a vengeance was obsessive thought patterns. These aren’t the kind of thoughts that, say, make me wash my hands 70 times a day or anything that extreme. It’s more like an ongoing internal dialogue in which I constantly and repeatedly ponder about whatever I’m having anxiety about, which lately has been quite a lot.

As I’ve said in the past, the best side effect of this medication that I learned the ability to know when to shut the fuck up. Pre-medication, those obsessive thoughts often found expression through my lips. Wellbutrin tempered that for sure. I felt like I had maybe learned some perspective from my 10 years of being on meds. I thought maybe I had finally overcome it. I was only partially right.

In the classic Robert Louis Steveson novella, Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, Dr. Henry Jekyll ingests a potion that releases his cruel, remorseless alter ego, Edward Hyde. I sometimes feel like I’m living the reverse of this scenario: I had to drink a “potion” to suppress my demon, not unleash it. Of course I’ve not done anything vicious, mean, unusual, or murderous, but I definitely feel my own personal Mr. Hyde — whom I call “Mr. Snide” — clawing his way to the surface more and more often.

Of course, nothing I’ve done or said has been as extreme, dangerous or hurtful as the fictional Hyde, but Mr. Snide is there. It’s like I can feel him lurking just behind my eyes. Mr. Snide is a manifestation of all my insecurities rolled into one anxious ball of energy. Projecting my insecurities onto others is Mr. Snide’s main job.

Unlike the past, most of Mr. Snide’s actions now occur within the boundaries of my skull. Having a a certain amount of self-awareness is what keeps Mr. Snide from ever completely escaping. However, his best chance for extrication is when there’s alcohol in my system.

My decision to go off antidepressants was something that I arrived at after a lot of thought. Despite the occasional mental or emotional aberration, I don’t regret it. I just have to stay vigilant over what I say and do. There’s no doubt that I may have made some mistakes, said the wrong thing on occasion, in a few instances maybe acted too rashly. But what’s done is done. All I can do is learn from these experiences. -fin-