I’ll try to keep this post short and sweet after the last one. This doesn’t really need a novella, and it’s more to keep track for myself.
However, a little context for context’s sake.
Mid-late 2016 I started a regimen of Prozac for managing my anxiety – a topic for another blog post. There were the usual side-effects for the first month or so, but as soon as they settled down everything was pretty darn awesome. I liked to call myself ‘almost psychologically bulletproof’. The source of the ‘almost’ in that statement is also a topic for another day.
Early-mid 2017, however, I noticed some weight creep that couldn’t be explained by anything other than the medication, as nothing had changed in my diet and exercise regime. I spoke with my GP about it when it came time to renew my prescription, and we agreed we’d give me another couple of months to see if I can get on top of it before we decide whether or not to wean off.
A couple of months later and I felt like a bloated hippo, so we started weaning off. It took two months to wean down to nothing, and it’ll take me another two months to get it entirely out of my system due to the half lives of the active ingredient (fluoxetine) and its metabolite (norfluoxetine), 4-6 days and approximately 16 days respectively.
Right now I feel like the drug is trying to hoard all the fat it can before it’s gone, like a squirrel storing nuts before it forgets where and never comes back.