Bipolar Medications, Weight Gain, and Shame: A Confession

In the late 1980s I was diagnosed with fibromyalgia and given Elavil (amitriptyline) to help me sleep. I had been found to have inadequate delta sleep (deep, restful sleep) in a sleep study, and it was thought (maybe still is) that poor sleep and fibromyalgia were related.

The first morning after I took Elavil I nearly wept for joy. It was the first good night’s sleep I’d had in 20 years.

One problem with that drug is that you have to keep jacking up the dose to get the same effect. The other is that it packs on the weight. I went from 135 to 165 pounds, and people were asking me if I was pregnant.

In 1992 I decided I couldn’t stand the extra weight any more and stopped taking Elavil. The weight started to peel off. Then, in December, my sweetheart of 11 years died suddenly, just a month after we finally got engaged. I lost a total of 40 pounds, down to 125.

Prozac

Prozac

Now, I looked great at 135, and not bad at all at 125, even though I was 5’10” tall, as I’m extremely small-boned. But in 1994 I had a depressive breakdown and was put on Prozac, which was still pretty new then.

By 1997 I had gained 20 pounds and I did not look good.

In 1999 I was diagnosed with Bipolar II disorder and began to play musical chairs with meds. More and more weight gain, till I got up to 170. Here’s my medication history from my first psychiatric medications until 2003:

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Ever have one of those hours?

One hour. One hour to go out and do a couple of errands. Buy a gift card for my sister-in-law at Dunkin’ Donuts (and pick up a dozen of my favorites), and pick up cigarettes and a prescription at Walgreens. Simple enough. Right?

It started before I got to the garage. I’d come downstairs wearing the wrong glasses, so rather than go back, even though it was heavily overcast, I decided to wear my sunglasses. Set the alarm, went into the garage, found I’d left my keys inside. Just felt like a moron, nothing major.

Of course, my garage door opener broke last week, so I get to pull it open. Get into the car and struggle for two minutes to fasten the seat belt. What the heck? Back it out, realize it wasn’t even necessary to put on the seat belt, go back into the garage, close the door and go back into the house. Duh. Reset the alarm, then go out the front door. Back to the car. Now I can’t get the seat belt fastened, and drive to Dunkin’ Donuts without it. Continue reading

Old Desk – New Desk – Old Desk

Let’s start off by stipulating that I’m not a hoarder. The professional organizers who came to help me after my bad fall in 2010 agreed on that. I’m closer to being one of those perfectionists who gives up when something can’t be done perfectly. The organizers also said I actually have a talent for organizing. What I don’t have at all is a talent for putting things away.

Some of my friends would say I have a talent for not cleaning. One of my friends finally refused to help me declutter any more, because it never lasted. I can’t blame her, either. Continue reading