Antidepressants @ MindSay

(NaturalNews) Women who take strategic serotonin reuptake inhibitor (SSRI) antidepressants during pregnancy are twice as likely to give birth prematurely as women who do not take the drugs, according to a study published in the Archives of Pediatric & Adolescent Medicine and funded by the Danish Medical Research Council.

Many of the most popular depressants are SSRIs, such as Prozac.

Researchers compared rates of premature birth between different women receiving prenatal care at the same hospital in Aarhus, Denmark. They compared women who were depressed and taking SSRIs with those who were depressed and not on any drugs, as well as those who did not suffer from depression.

Women who took SSRIs while pregnant were two times as likely to give premature birth as those who did not take the drugs. On average, they gave birth four to five days earlier (relative to their due dates) than women who did not take the drugs.

The researchers also found that the risk of an infant needing intensive care immediately after birth was significantly increased by SSRI use during pregnancy. While only 7 percent of babies born to non-depressed mothers needed intensive care, along with only 9 percent of those born to depressed mothers who were not taking drugs, 16 percent of babies born to women who had used SSRIs while pregnant required treatment in an intensive care unit.

Babies born to SSRI-using mothers also appeared less healthy than other babies, the researchers said, based on measures including skin color, activity level after birth, pulse, breathing and response to external stimuli.

Previous studies have confirmed that SSRIs can cross the placental barrier into the fetal bloodstream, and that infants born to women who used the drugs during pregnancy can suffer from withdrawal symptoms.

Health professionals recommend that women who are taking SSRIs and are pregnant or thinking of becoming pregnant speak with a doctor about their options, rather than stopping treatment abruptly. Side effects of antidepressant withdrawal can be severe.

Sources for this story include: www.guardian.co.uk.

(NaturalNews) As NaturalNews has previously reported, the U.S. is a nation seemingly hooked on mind-altering drugs (http://www.naturalnews.com/027054_d...). A study released last fall in the Archives of General Psychiatry documented a dramatic increase in the use of antidepressant drugs like Prozac since l996. In fact, these medications are now the most widely prescribed drugs in the U.S.

Think Americans are maxed out on the number of psychiatric meds that huge numbers of them are taking? Think again. A new report says U.S. adults are increasingly being prescribed combinations of antidepressants, anti-anxiety and antipsychotic medications -- and they could be experiencing serious side effects as a result.

The study, published in the January edition of Archives of General Psychiatry, investigated patterns and trends in what is known as psychotropic polypharmacy, meaning the prescribing of two or more psychiatric drugs. Ramin Mojtabai, M.D., Ph.D., M.P.H., of the Bloomberg School of Public Health at Johns Hopkins University in Baltimore and Mark Olfson, M.D., M.P.H., of Columbia University Medical Center and the New York State Psychiatric Institute, examined data gathered from a national sample of office-based psychiatry practices. In all, the researchers looked at the medications prescribed between 1996 and 2006 during more than 13,000 office visits to psychiatrists by adults.

The results showed a significant increase in the number of mind impacting drugs prescribed over these years. The percentage of doctor visits which resulted in two or more medications being prescribed increased from 42.6 percent to 59.8 percent. What's more, the percentage of visits at which three or more drugs were prescribed soared from 16.9 percent to 33.2 percent. And the median number of medications prescribed at each appointment with a psychiatrist increased on average by of 40.1 percent.

The combinations of drugs being prescribed with increasing frequency include antidepressants with sedative-hypnotics (the most prescribed combination), antidepressants given along with antipsychotics and combinations of several kinds of antidepressants. But at least the doctors prescribing these mixed drugs are only doing so based on solid research showing the combos are safe and effective, right? Wrong.

"Because scant data exist to support the efficacy of some of the most common medication combinations, such as antipsychotic combinations or combinations of antidepressants and antipsychotics, prudence suggests that renewed clinical efforts should be made to limit the use of these combinations to clearly justifiable circumstances," the authors wrote in their paper. "At the same time, a new generation of research is needed to assess the efficacy, effectiveness and safety of common concomitant medication regimens, especially in patients with multiple disorders or monotherapy-refractory conditions."

In other words, drugs are being given to patients in all sorts of combinations without sound science showing they even work well together -- much less that these drug cocktails are safe to take. In fact, the researchers point out specific dangers of taking multiple psychiatric drugs.

"While the evidence for added benefit of antipsychotic polypharmacy is limited, there is growing evidence regarding the increased adverse effects associated with such combinations," they concluded. A case in point: some combinations cause increases in body weight and total cholesterol level. Others have been associated with an increase in fasting blood glucose level.

For more information:
http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/...

When I started this blog originally, I did mean for it to be a daily outlet where I could express my day-to-day thoughts and feelings. Sometimes I did unload a lot onto here and it did help - but a lot of the time, I didn't feel like dragging everything back up, dredging through it all and writing it up. Also, I didn't always keep up with the daily blogging idea - I'd leave empty ones then return to them later to update them.

I'm not going to stop the blog entirley - I'm just going to blog when I feel I need time to unload, or if there's been something I want to document. Although this webpage to me, among other things - is a sweet representation of the majority of my life at the age of 17 and some of 18. If I'd kept blogging daily until the end of January, I would have managed it for a whole year, but things don't always work out the way you plan.


Recently, my depression had dropped to the lowest it had ever been - I was getting into fights, refusing to work, struggling to move, getting frustrated with all of my barriers and blocks that prevented me from doing what I wanted to do. So, my English tutor had a talk with me on Monday, as did the college advisor Alison.
Basically, she told me I needed to get myself sorted - they both said now that it's been going on for so many years and that I was at the point where I couldn't cope with it anymore, I ought to now see a doctor about it.

I didn't want to - I was nervous, I was scared. I did ask Shelly if she'd come with me - and she agreed to - but that was planned for Friday.
On the bus home Tuesday, I'd just thought about a lot of things that had been mounting up for the past few months, including the argument I'd had with Shelly on Monday night, when I'd cut myself infront of Ashleigh, how concerned Adam seemed to be getting, how my college work was being affected...

I got off the bus and it was snowing. I shook my head - deciding if mam asked why I was late home, I'd say that the buses were taking the piss - as they sort of were anyway.
So I went to the doctor's. Alison and I had compiled a list of my symptoms - as I'd said that depression wasn't an ailment that could be presented like a rash or a broken arm, it's not something you could see - and I didn't feel comfortable with just blurting things out.
But, although I had my list in my satchel with me - I didn't even use it. On the way to the chemist, it started hailstoning and the snowstorm got worse.
It's so sweetly ironic that all of this was happening in the midst of a beasty snowstorm.

So now I'm on antidepressants. I always had an aversion to the idea, what with the negativity spoken about them. But the doctor assured me that they weren't addictive.
Though problems did occur - he said that if I wanted a repeat perscription - which I'll probably need in a month's time - I'd have to go to my registered GP - which is fucking miles away.
Also, I didn't want my mam to end up giving me some tablets that shouldn't be mixed with the antidepressants. I went to tell her six times, but bottled it every time. She asked me why I kept mooching about, but I just got frustrated and said that I wasn't.

Wednesday - I told my dad about it.
He says that he's not angry with me, he says he's angry with the doctor for giving them to me. But then he went on to say that I'm 18 now, I'm an adult - and that I can make my own choices. He did seem disappointed though - after I'd said something was bothering me and I blurted it out, he put his hand to his face and sighed.
Later on the night I'd said: "Can you cut this pizza for me, because I'm shit." - meaning, I was shit at cutting pizzas - which I am.
To which he responds: "You're not shit. If there's one thing you're not, it's shit - so don't ever say that." - he did that fucking voice that he does when he's drunk and he makes me cry.

On Tuesday I went to an ALS session with Angela and I completed a page of English coursework - and I'll go to more sessions until it's finished.
I've chosen to only tell a select handful of people about these tablets. I'll only tell my counsellors, tutors and closest friends. Of which, I've obviously told Sarah and Alison - and oddly enough, I caught Dianne too and let her know. She seemed really surprised - where Alison just seemed shocked that I'd actually gone ahead and done it. In additon to those who ought to know - I obviously told Shelly - along with Michaella, Lewis and Adam. All of them seemed shocked too. Adam's face was just beyond description. I got an eyebrow raise from Lewis - Shelly seemed angry - but Michaella was the least responsive of them. I'm still waiting to tell Ashleigh. I was thinking about telling her over the phone, but I'm debating on that idea a little.


I did feel the highs of them today though - at about 12 noon I was absolutley off my tits - constantly talking and even being confident to start singing LADY GAGA - POKER FACE to Lewis in the LRC, complete with HAND GESTURES. I'm not sure who was more confused - him or me.


My new year's resolutions were to help myself. - I think I've taken the first step towards that one...
My other was a secret - well, they were both secrets, I'd not told anybody except Alison - but my 2nd one was to write again. Using DATWBSVOH as a starting point.

Instead of going for perfection - I've decided to leave it virtually as it comes out - thus I've chosen the style of 1st-person-stream-of-conciousness. So far, it has its little points where it's of my old high standard - generally,it's of my reasonable standard - but parts of it are fucking hilarious, it's turning out to be way funnier than I'd ever imagined. :)

Tess was upset the amount of times I’d been sent home with black eyes and bloody noses, but she was more upset when I’d been sent home for attacking my food technology tutor with a rolling-pin and whisk when she’d criticised my bacon-banana flan. Ditto the time I’d re-programmed all of the printers in the ICT suite to ...print out hundreds of A4 sheets of paper with “PICKLED VAGINA” written on them in size 72.

Tess came home and found me laid on the rug in the lounge, wearing my shorts and striped jumper, letting Wolfgang run up and down my sleeves and feeding him dried banana chips. I’d closed the curtains and turned on all the lamps, giving the room a soft ambient glow. I was listening to Mozart’s Requiem on full volume an...d simultaneously reading a soft-core porn magazine. Sometimes gran knows that it’s best not to ask.

I have a history of depression, and every so often have a day or a couple of days in which I'm completely non-functional. I had a couple of those recently.

I love the Cymbalta "depression hurts" commercial, as much as you can love a pharmaceutical ad, anyway, because it so perfectly captures the experience of depression -- living your life from a dark place, in a dark room, oblivious to those around you while everyone else lives their lives. It perfectly illustrates the sense of being completely hopeless and unable to engage, wandering aimlessly through the frozen foods section, completely overwhelmed by the effort of choosing between two types of Swanson dinners and not caring if you ever eat again. The commercial hits so close to home, in fact, that I find it hard not to cry every time it comes on.

Eventually the darkness lifts and I return to my own special version of normal, forgetting for a time what it was like to spiral down until the Black Dog, as someone famous (Winston Churchill?) once called it, comes around again. Just when I feel that I'm making real progress in my life it happens again, and I can't remember or imagine ever feeling well. Apparently I talk a great game, because I'm constantly told how incredibly "perky" and "happy" I am, a great source of confusion when you feel awful but question your judgement because everyone assures you you're a bleeding beacon of sunshine. I decided that it might help to keep a written record of my "episodes," both to validate my experience in my own mind and perhaps offer patterns and clues that might help the next time around. I thought that I would post one of these accounts, my own little Cymbalta commercial, to try to capture the nature of depression. I have also realized how much I have kept this part of myself to myself, lived alone with it, and thought that releasing it into the blog-world might help dilute its power.

I tried Cymbalta, incidentally, until my samples ran out and it wasn't among the antidepressants my insurance would approve; since moving to the US a year ago, I've switched medications four times trying to find one that is covered by insurance and lifts my mood without destroying my guts, libido and figure.

Sept 5^th

 

Even when I am depressed, or maybe especially when I am depressed, I can eat my weight in breakfast. I had the Spacetown Breakfast at the Derry Diner, and the waitress applauded me for finishing everything, right down to the enormous waffle that she said is most people’s undoing. I grinned shyly, acknowledging her praise, and felt actual pride. I am 30 going on 6.

 

Between being unable to find any decent clothes due to the move and the apathy with which I awoke, I am dressed like a tragic soccer mom. My hair is scraggled back in an elastic. These are the most attractive years of my life, and this is all I have to offer.

 

This morning I woke up afraid. My dehydration headache was a reminder of last night’s cryfest. I told Eric that he shouldn’t have to babysit me, but he worked from home to keep me company because I was afraid to be alone and sad. Usually, I am just afraid to be alone in a house with crappy locks. Today, I didn’t really care if anyone broke in.

 

I don’t think Eric got much work done. We went to Home Depot for screws, and I picked out some tulip bulbs that caught my eye, while simultaneously telling myself that I would never be organized enough to get them planted.

 

At suppertime I almost cried when I couldn’t find cayenne pepper and a baking pan for hot wings. I ended up using a turkey roaster placed in an oven full of ashes I didn’t have the strength of body or mind to remove following the self-cleaning we had done earlier in the day. The oven wouldn’t work. We had takeout. I ordered some cabinet knobs online that made me happy until the happiness was drowned by the knowledge that I’d never get the house together and didn’t deserve nice things anyway.

 

Today I took my first walk around the neighborhood (it started as a run, but quickly degraded). I tried to focus on foliage and houses but mostly thought about all the things in life I can’t keep up with. I showered and shaved my legs and armpits with a razor too dull to cut butter.

 

I am sad because I am invisible.

I am convinced that life is a constant series of disappointments.

I am sad because I feel like the friends I had have forgotten me.

I am sad because I am scared of everything.

I am sad because the entryway smells like pee.

I am sad because I cannot seem to get past sad.

I am sad because everything is an obstacle, and I cannot see it any other way.

I am sad because I once thought I would run with the poets. Now, I run with the bottle of all-purpose cleaner and still manage to live in a dump of my own creation.

I cannot call myself a writer, because writers write, and I do not. I clean and stew.

I am bitter because people with full-time jobs manage to keep shiny, clean-scrubbed houses, and I clean obsessively with nothing to show for it.

I feel guilty because I have no 9-5 job to go to, yet still can’t find time to do anything and completely throw away the opportunity I’m given.

I am angry that there is not enough time for anything, let alone slowing down and enjoying it.

I am convinced that others see me as nothing more than a housewife sponging off of Eric, and fear that this is true.

I walk with the constant pain of so much wasted potential, and the conviction that life and time have passed me by.

I am crushed by the knowledge that nothing ever changes.

I am drowning in the past, and see nothing of pleasure or success in the future.

I am isolated, with no one reaching in and no me reaching out, falling in on myself. I know that I need to spend more time out in the world, but every fiber fears and resists.

I am angry that I try so hard and have been doing it all wrong, all along. I have learned nothing.

I want but fear children, both for the demands they will impose on my already beyond-control life and the things I will impose on them.

I am sad that I cannot get in a car and drive without being paralyzed by the conviction of an intrinsic lack of skill and fear of hurting someone else or myself.

I am sad because my way always seems to be the wrong way.

I am angry for staying quiet while others put me down, then turning around and giving myself the same treatment.

I did not like Sylvia Plath's journals, particularly her description of the pleasures of picking her nose, but one thing stayed with me -- her description of how she couldn't find the strength or motivation to wash her hair, paralyzed by the prospect of having to do it again tomorrow, and the next day, and the next, wondering what's the point of ever doing it at all.

Maybe that is the question?  Millions of Americans taking medications everyday!  From antibiotics, allergy meds, antidepressants, antipsychotic dugs, OTC drugs.....you name it. 

 

Ironically enough, I was against medication for years.  Except my multi-vitamin.  Then I started having panic attacks.  So my doctor gave me a script for Xanax.  I only took them when I had a panic attack.  That was over 10 years ago.  I haven't taken an antibiotic in over 6 years.  The last time I did, I was VERY Ill.  So I ask myself, how is it now I take all this medication everyday when I even refuse a simple antibiotic??? 

 

First, I think SSRI's and all antidepressants are overprescribed.  I think people are getting lazy and just don't want to deal with life.  When I got to that point, I went to a therapist for "spiritual guidance."  After 6 months of therapy, he formally diagnosed me with ADHD and OCD.  No big news flash as I was diagnosed as a little girl with ADD.  He sent me on to the Psychiatrist.  The man with the ink pen and pad.  My first script, Ritalin.  Ironically enough, I could not stay awake on Ritalin.  I slept non stop.  I daydreamed of naps.  One month later, he switched me to Adderall.  Watch out, I am getting shit done and you better step aside.    For once i my life, I felt accomplished.  I had completed more tasks in one week on this medication than I had in 28 years.  So why I am complaining?  Well, theres more.  There is always more to every story.  With the Adderall, I had a terrible time with what they refer to as a "rebound."  Coming off the Adderall.  I was irritable, panicky and couldn't sleep.  So he added on a sleeping pill.  Which did not work, so he switched the sleeping pill over and over.  Then added another benzo and sleeping pill.  Which worked...for a while.  I went from being a mess, to being so productive and accomplished to a somewhat different person who could get things done, but rarely slept or even socialized anymore.  I was a social butterfly.  But I couldn't exactly have a few drinks then go home and take my sleeping meds.

 

So there is the beginning........I have no clue where this will lead.  But my mind is in overdrive and this is my place to unload my thoughts and my issues.  And let me tell ya......... I've got issues.