The Velveteen Habit: Moving Off Meds...and Finding What's Real

I've mentioned before my reticence around anti-depressants and other mood-altering meds. I've also confessed my own reliance on ADs (Effexor) when chronic stress from the betrayal mixed together with perhaps a predisposition to depression (thanks again, mom and dad!) created a recipe for disastrous coping skills and strong desire for life to just be over. I was so damn tired of the pain.
I had hoped to use ADs only briefly but my counsellor, who's also an MD, insisted that 18 months is really the minimum time period. Our brains ostensibly require at least that amount of time to get over depression and start producing the necessary chemicals to lift us out of despair. So...here I am, 18 months later, being weaned off my "little helper".
So far, so good.
Thankfully I've experienced none of the potentially nasty withdrawal symptoms. The past few days, however, I've been feeling more down than usual. Admittedly, January generally tends to bring forth some mild depression. Perhaps its a combination of post-holiday let-down coupled with a recent visit to my in-laws (who, frankly, could turn the Dalai Lama into a gin-swilling depressive prone to random acts of violence).
The thing with having been on meds is that I no longer know if my feelings are legitimately mine...or due to some sort of chemical cha-cha in my brain. In other words, am I down because of everything that's happened the past few years...and the feelings have been simply laying in wait. Or am I feeling down because of what's going on now.
I guess time will tell. The thing with betrayal is that you never really get over it. Sure we've moved on...or so I think.
And then my husband will get annoyed with me for something such as forgetting to fill his car with gas after I've emptied the tank running errands...and I'll find myself wanting to scream that "at least I wasn't screwing the gas station attendant!" I don't, of course, but the temptation is there to measure every step and misstep of mine against his. And guess who loses every time.
I'm nonetheless looking forward to feeling again. I've always been mercurial...prone to extreme moods. And while I don't miss the deep dark lows, I do miss the glorious highs.
I, wonder, though, if that me is simply gone. Lost to experience. To betrayal. To time.
I feel like the Velveteen Rabbit. A bit battered. Shabbier. Certainly wiser from having been loved...and cast aside at least temporarily. And learning to discern what's real.

#1 Question About Betrayal: "Will the pain ever end?"

The short answer is "yes". When it will end depends on a lot of things: your personality, the depth of the betrayal (or your perception of the depth of betrayal), your support system, your spouse's behaviour, the affair partner's willingness or reluctance to exit your life...
In the meantime, there are things you can do. You might feel paralyzed, but by taking some control you'll be amazed at how empowered you'll feel.

Meet with a lawyer:
Having a consultation will help you figure out what your options are and what a separation/divorce will mean for you in terms of finances, child support and so on. Knowledge is power.

Just be:
Yes, it sounds flakey. But so often in our misery, we cut out the things that would actually help us feel a bit better. I spent so much time in my head (what's he doing right now? Is he still seeing her? Should I check his cell phone bills? Omigod I'm going to vomit...) that I forgot to just be in the moment. Sorry for going all Eckhart Tolle on you, but if there's anything betrayal can teach you, it's that you're not as in control of your life as you might think. This moment...and your response to it...is all any of us have. So try to just be. I finally got it one day when I was walking my dogs, something I loved to do...but had stopped doing because I couldn't obsess over phone records and Visa statements if I was out of the house. So...there I was walking the dogs, noticing that it was actually a gorgeous winter day. Blue sky, white snow twinkling in the light, the crunch of snow under my feet... And, briefly, I felt the weight lift from my shoulders. I lasted only seconds...but it was enough to convince me that it was possible.
What can you do to help you lose yourself...in a good way. Exercise? Listen to music (no cheatin' songs, please, unless they've about kicking a cheater's butt!)? Read a good book? Clean? (No kidding, a friend of mine gets great pleasure out of cleaning her house. Weird, I know!)

If all else fails...medicate:
Let me start by stating I have a strong but entirely understandable aversion to anti-depressants, as my mother had a serious prescription drug addiction for much of my life. I fought the idea of taking ADs hard...and kept fighting for 1 1/2 years after D-Day #1. But though I had moments of light (see dog-walking, above), rather than growing more frequent, they were growing less. And when I found myself more often than not wishing I could just die, it seemed prudent to at least entertain the notion of chemical intervention.
I was furious. I hated that everyone – most notably my therapist who's an MD – thought I needed to be medicated out of my pain. But, as she explained, chronic stress and anxiety can alter the chemical balance of your brain. I grudgingly agreed to try. And within two days, the darkness parted and a bit of light shone through. By the end of a week, I had some of my energy back. And not long after, I felt equipped -- mentally and physically -- to cope with my husband's sex addiction, my mother's unexpected death (inconsiderate of her to die just when I needed her most!) and help my three children cope with their grandmother's death and just growing up.
So...by no means am I a pill-pusher. But nor am I anti-ADs anymore. I'm in the process, 1 1/2 years later, of being weaned off. No side effects and I feel good. Which means they did their job.
If you can't imagine ever feeling good again, it's worth discussing the possibility of ADs or anti-anxiety medication with your doctor. I've learned the hard way that asking for help is courageous.