hawkwing_lb (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
hawkwing_lb) wrote2013-08-31 08:54 pm
hawkwing_lb) wrote2013-08-31 08:54 pm
Entry tags:
Body image, weight, depression, and sundry other horrors of life
One of the less interesting and more common side effects of the SSRI known as escitalopram is weight gain.
In the spring of this year - March, I believe - I felt like emotional hell and went to my doctor. We upped my dose of escitalopram by half again as much as I'd been taking to that point.
At that point in time, with a shitty diet and irregular gymming, my weight hovered around 103.5kg. By May, I hadn't changed my diet and exercise patterns, and I'd gained 2kg. I've spent the last two months trying to change my diet and exercise patterns - with some success! - and my present weight is somewhere between 106.5kg and 107.5kg.
I've never been a light person. It comes of being about 5'9 and 22-24 inches across at the shoulder. My lightest adult weight, before I left school, at my fittest, was 85kg. I didn't mind, as an undergraduate, weighing in at 95kg-98kg (that's 209-216 imperial lbs, approximately, American friends) while I was climbing and running: I'd never win any slenderness competitions, but I didn't feel uncomfortably bloated, except occasionally.
At 105.5kg, I dislike the way my body feels. It's too heavy, too bloated, not responsive. I feel like a clod on my feet.
I'm not sure how much of the weight gain I can blame on escitalopram: some, certainly. Perhaps the inability to make inroads on losing it? But while I've started to address my previously-shocking Coca-cola addiction (stopped cold, have broken that resolution with one-two cans per week since, but nothing on the litre-plus/day habit I'd somehow managed to grow into) I still eat more sugary crap than is really recommended.
I haven't managed to quit chocolate cold-turkey yet. It's one of the few things left that give me some modicum of comfort.
But the rest of my life is still made of emotional rollercoaster. I have a thesis to write. My grandmother's still dying. My mother is still on sickleave. The household finances are still not in the Happy Place. I have no local friends right now to see in person. I feel guilty about taking time away from work for hobbies - like climbing or martial arts, where I might see other people. My energy levels are nowhere near where they were even in my final year of undergrad. And when my thesis is finished, if I live so long, I have to contemplate What Happens Next.
I can't keep gaining weight. It makes me even more self-disgusted than I am already.
But changing or stopping the dosage of escitalopram is another giant worry. I don't like depressed mood and suicidal ideations, and for me they're less serious with escitalopram than without.
This, on top of everything else. I cannot handle my shit right now. I do not know what to do. And I am in a mood lately wherein I want to say hurtful things to everyone who was ever kind to me, and then crawl off in a corner and cry until the world explodes.
Mental illness is fucking annoying. The worst part? Right now, I can't even laugh at myself.
In the spring of this year - March, I believe - I felt like emotional hell and went to my doctor. We upped my dose of escitalopram by half again as much as I'd been taking to that point.
At that point in time, with a shitty diet and irregular gymming, my weight hovered around 103.5kg. By May, I hadn't changed my diet and exercise patterns, and I'd gained 2kg. I've spent the last two months trying to change my diet and exercise patterns - with some success! - and my present weight is somewhere between 106.5kg and 107.5kg.
I've never been a light person. It comes of being about 5'9 and 22-24 inches across at the shoulder. My lightest adult weight, before I left school, at my fittest, was 85kg. I didn't mind, as an undergraduate, weighing in at 95kg-98kg (that's 209-216 imperial lbs, approximately, American friends) while I was climbing and running: I'd never win any slenderness competitions, but I didn't feel uncomfortably bloated, except occasionally.
At 105.5kg, I dislike the way my body feels. It's too heavy, too bloated, not responsive. I feel like a clod on my feet.
I'm not sure how much of the weight gain I can blame on escitalopram: some, certainly. Perhaps the inability to make inroads on losing it? But while I've started to address my previously-shocking Coca-cola addiction (stopped cold, have broken that resolution with one-two cans per week since, but nothing on the litre-plus/day habit I'd somehow managed to grow into) I still eat more sugary crap than is really recommended.
I haven't managed to quit chocolate cold-turkey yet. It's one of the few things left that give me some modicum of comfort.
But the rest of my life is still made of emotional rollercoaster. I have a thesis to write. My grandmother's still dying. My mother is still on sickleave. The household finances are still not in the Happy Place. I have no local friends right now to see in person. I feel guilty about taking time away from work for hobbies - like climbing or martial arts, where I might see other people. My energy levels are nowhere near where they were even in my final year of undergrad. And when my thesis is finished, if I live so long, I have to contemplate What Happens Next.
I can't keep gaining weight. It makes me even more self-disgusted than I am already.
But changing or stopping the dosage of escitalopram is another giant worry. I don't like depressed mood and suicidal ideations, and for me they're less serious with escitalopram than without.
This, on top of everything else. I cannot handle my shit right now. I do not know what to do. And I am in a mood lately wherein I want to say hurtful things to everyone who was ever kind to me, and then crawl off in a corner and cry until the world explodes.
Mental illness is fucking annoying. The worst part? Right now, I can't even laugh at myself.
no subject
I'm in something of a similar place at the moment, though for different reasons. I'm a good 30kg heavier than I'd like to be at the moment, roughly 20 of which is pregnancy weight that's proving excruciatingly hard to shift, partly because of all the postpartum health issues I've had, including - but by no means limited to! - the fact that my knees now appear to be fucked, which makes exercising difficult, but mostly because I'm depressed a lot of the time, which makes doing anything - but especially eating well and, you know, going outside at all - hard. Plus, we just moved house, which is certainly something to be glad about, but we don't have a fridge for another four days, which means that literally every meal is takeaway or something fatty from the corner shop; on top of which, I've finally figured out that at least *part* of the reason my knees now suck is that the exercise bike a friend kindly gave me to help get back in shape, and which I used religiously last month, is way to short in the saddle, so that every time I used it, I was damaging myself. AUGH. Anyway, sorry: not meaning to ramble; just wanted to let you know you're not alone.
Also, on a different note: will you be at WFC? It would be great to say hi in person! :)
no subject
I'm not going to be at WFC, alas. I can't afford it... and also, from Twitter, it's beginning to look like a trainwreck... But my plans for 2014 do encompass Worldcon!
no subject
And re WFC: howso a trainwreck? I've missed the Twitter discussions of it, so wasn't aware of any issues.
no subject
Re the knees: ouch. Physiotherapist? *helps like cats*
no subject
And no, I haven't seen a physio about my knees. They've been feeling a bit better the past few days, though, so fingers crossed the ligaments just needed a rest from lifting and constant abuse.
no subject