It's been happening ever since I stopped using the anti-depressants the doctor prescribed back in November.
I thought maybe I was like my dad and having a series of mini-strokes; losing brain cells by the dozens every day.
It felt like a tiny surge of fizz pumping into my head, often 6 - 8 times an hour.
I think that's what happened when I fell down the staircase at work.
I've got some friends, who after laughing with me about the craziness of that wild descent, reminded me that I'm very lucky that I didn't break my neck or seriously injure my back.
On Friday night, I was out with Sandra, my friend who has an Internet MD licence (no, there's no such thing), and she said, "Of course you're dealing with dizziness and light-headedness, your brain is no longer getting selective seretonin re-uptake inhibitors, and it has to move that seretonin itself. Thus the pulsing sensation. Go home and check it out."
So I did:
Symptoms described as "brain zaps", "brain shocks", "brain shivers", "brain pulse-waves", "head shocks", "pulses", "flickers", or "cranial zings" are withdrawal symptoms experienced during discontinuation (or reduction of dose) of antidepressant drugs. Common responses to dose reduction or cessation include dizziness, electric shock-like sensations, insomnia, tremor, confusion, nightmares, and vertigo.
Well that explains the nightmares I've been having about Richard Armitage's nose.
Three things I'm thankful for:
1. Stupid movies that just make me laugh: Stolen Identity did just that.
2. Long talks about life and love over salads at White Spot.
3. Songs at church that hit me in the feelers:
- The love of God is greater far
Than tongue or pen can ever tell;
It goes beyond the highest star,
And reaches to the lowest hell;
The guilty pair, bowed down with care,
God gave His Son to win;
His erring child He reconciled,
And pardoned from his sin.
Oh, love of God, how rich and pure!
How measureless and strong!
It shall forevermore endure—
The saints’ and angels’ song.
- Could we with
inkthe ocean fill,
And were the skies of parchment made,
Were every stalk on earth a quill,
And every man a scribe by trade;
To write the love of God above
Would drain the ocean dry;
Nor could the scroll contain the whole,
Though stretched from sky to sky.