Wellllllll, poop.

 9 months later, there've been some developments. No digestive issues (as the title might suggest). Different kind of poop...

First, the good news! I've had months and months without a real descent into the abyss. Dark days, sure, but as I've described to people, it's as if there's been a safety net inside of me. I can FEEL when conditions are ripe for me to go down the tubes - a day where someone says the wrong thing, or circumstances are such that I would normally tank. I fall from the high-wire, but before I splat - something catches me. It just won't let me go all the way down. And that's a strange thing?! Like something outside your control has latched onto you and is holding you suspended above the chasm. Thanks Spiderman!!!

It hadn't been without a cost. I do seem to have lost access to my tears for the most part. I'll squeeze one out here or there, but as a sensitive person, I'm used to shedding tears maybe a couple times a week in ways that felt very appropriate to me (sadness for myself/others). Although it has bothered me, my wife assured me the loss was well worth it. 

Then about two months ago, I stepped on the bathroom scale and HOLY SHNIKEES!!! I'll be honest, I had a few pounds to lose before I even started taking the pills, but over the first 8 months, I had unwittingly gained 25 or 30 more. And I was working out 4-5 times per week! So I had to do that terrible thing I've been able to avoid my entire life - watch what I eat. I got an app to start counting calories, starting drinking LOTS more water, (less beer), and things began to trend positively - er, negatively, as the case may be. 

Again - I could deal with this price - just be more disciplined with eating - these things happen, I'll live, and I knew from the start that weight gain was one of the risks. 

Buuuuuut then about 3 weeks ago, the safety net just didn't catch me. It hit bottom HARD one weekend. Just like old times. 

I hoped it was an isolated incident - had I just found a small hole in the net perhaps?! Maybe it wouldn't happen again.

It did. 2 weeks later. Which is about the frequency I was normally hitting depression as I tracked it last year - pre-pills. 

Doctors call it "pooping out." 

Some people (for reasons they can't explain) over time develop a resistance to the SSRIs. Apparently about 30% of users experience it within the first year. The technical name for this response is "antidepressant tachyphylaxis." You can understand how "pooping out" became the more widely used term. 

So now I have 3 options:

1. Up dosage 

2. Switch meds

3. Quit 

None are very attractive. Upping dosage would seem to promise upping my side effects with no promise that my brain wouldn't also poop out in time on that dosage either. Switching meds will include some difficult transition with, again, no promise that I won't experience more side effects AND ultimate poopage. Quitting altogether is the MOST unpopular of the options with my wife (bless her), and actually carries some risks which I'm now reading about (which is frustrating as I feel I should have been more informed about these from the start). 

I plan to talk to my doc, of course. 

Just wanted to continue to be open about my experience which, it would appear, still has some twists and turns ahead. 

I will not end this with a poop joke.