August 25, 2007 was the first day in nine years that I didn't take that morning little pink poison pill ... not even a sliver of one ... not even a crumble (and it got down to slivers and crumbles there at the end). I had been chopping pills for about eight months at that point and it was time for it to be over. At first it was really strange to not take that pill every morning, but that strangeness was quickly replaced with the ability to laugh again - the ability to feel empathy for other people - the ability to have a rational conversation with somebody without yelling at them, belittling them, or trying to make them cry. It was replaced with me wanting to actually get out of the house and do things instead of sitting in front of the tv eating anything that I could get my hands on. It was replaced by my snarky sense of humor that had long been lost in the Paxilated haze. It was replaced by a love and respect and gratitude for the man who stood by me when every other man on the planet would have given up and only tried to save himself.
Things aren't all rainbows and unicorns right now. We are living paycheck to paycheck (thank you lawyer's fees and manic spending debt - both of those situations Paxil induced), one of the kids is sick, another one of the kids might not get to go to college, the rent house has fleas (oh yeah - FLEAS!), there are still umpteen projects around the house that need to be done, and we still haven't won the lottery. But don't feel pity for me ... don't you dare. I spent nine years in Paxil hell ... living in a tunnel without emotions ... acting like a completely crazy person who didn't care that I was slowly ruining my life. Even with the things that are going wrong in my life right now ... there are soooooooooooo many things that are going right. It is nice out in the sunshine and I will never go back to the tunnel. NEVER.