Some of you that have been around this forum for a few years may remember me. Back throughout 2012 and early 2013, I was excited to finally be approaching the 200 pound mark for the first time since junior high. But the week I weighed in at 210, I got a happy surprise and found out I was pregnant!
I ate very carefully and gained the recommended amount. Had my beautiful little boy in December of 2013. Quickly got back on track with the weight loss, lost all the pregnancy weight in the matter of a month or so, and started C25K. At one of my follow-up visits to my OBGYN, I broke down over having forgotten my wallet, and when I explained how
everything was making me cry, I was diagnosed with postpartum and was quickly prescribed Zoloft.
By the time I completed C25K a few weeks later, my weight had dropped to 201. I thought I'd be more excited than I was. I also thought I'd be more excited about running my first few 5ks upon completion of the program, yet I felt "meh." But at the same time, I wasn't completely high-strung and on edge anymore, like I had been my entire life, and I wasn't crying at the drop of a hat, which was normal for me even without the pregnancy hormones. So when my GP mentioned it should be about time to take me off the Zoloft, I panicked. I felt I had finally gotten a taste of what it felt like to be "normal." I spent a lifetime feeling far too self-conscious to be myself, constantly terrified and occasionally paranoid. After I moved across the country about a decade ago I spent two years feeling embarrassingly agoraphobic, barely able leave the house by myself, not even to get the mail. Being on the Zoloft made me feel liberated and comfortable, so I explained this to both my new psychiatrist. I was diagnosed with General Anxiety Disorder, Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, and depression. I was assigned to a therapist that specialized in anxiety disorders, and went to group therapy on the nights I used to attend my weekly weight loss meetings.
By the time my son was 6 months old, I'd been on Zoloft for three months. This was around the time I noticed my eating habits were getting hard to control. I got pretty angry with myself; I mean, I'd already lost nearly 160 pounds all on my own, through sheer willpower over eating right and exercising. I knew how to be disciplined with my habits. I'd restart so many times. But all sorts of things were changing. I now had a little one to take care of. An extended relative moved in with all of us. I began to feel weirdly self-conscious about all my weight loss efforts for whatever reason.
It's really hard to explain, but it felt like a switch went off in my brain. I had this uncontrollable, primal urge to eat sugary things. After banning added sugar from my diet for the previous three years, I found it unbelievable how I suddenly became completely possessed by it. And even though I'd struggled with sugar in the past (you don't reach 360 pounds without having food issues), I'd never felt so out of control. Getting my next sugar fix was all I could think about. I felt so pathetic and embarrassed and angry with myself, as I knew I was throwing all of my progress and all of my hard work out the window. But I couldn't stop. I started planning out mini-binges that would escalate to not being able to stop even after my stomach was full. I remember hitting the drive-thru at McDonald's specifically to buy a 3-pack of chocolate chip cookies. One time the restaurant was out, and asked if another kind would be ok. I ate 3 oatmeal cookie instead, then drove to another location to get the 3 chocolate chip cookies I wanted. And of course, I ate those too. And I realized that I couldn't even enjoy the first cookie, because I was already focused on the next one. And by the time I'd get to the last one, I'd be ready to cry because there would be no more. So then I'd start thinking about what else I could eat ...
Upon one of my psychiatrist visits, I voiced concern that I felt out of control around sugar. I was laughed at, and told that "everyone" has those problems. I also brought it up with my therapist, and he suggested that perhaps the only thing that had kept me away from sugar when I was doing so well was my OCD, and now that it was "cured," I had to learn how to cope with my sugar cravings in a new way.
My weight continued to climb. I tried so many time to reboot my weight loss; I'd buy Quest Bars for example, a staple that got me through breakfasts back when I was doing well with the weight loss, but then I'd find myself literally pouring sugar on them. I seriously do mean it when I say I felt possessed, as I knew I was out of control, yet I was powerless to stop it. After a few more discussions with my therapist, he referred me to an eating disorder specialist. And after chasing down an urgent care doctor I'd seen for my worsening asthma, I begged him for some kind of recommendation for weight loss (my GP had ignored my request). He initially dismissed me, saying he couldn't prescribe weight loss pills, but I started crying and told him that wasn't what I was looking for. He returned a few minutes later asking if he'd assign me to a nutrition class, would I be willing to go? I soon saw a different psychiatrist, and he was alarmed when I brought up my concern with my insane cravings and what the previous doctor said. His answer? Stay on the Zoloft and add Wellbutrin to the mix.
So before I knew it, I was diagnosed with BED (Binge Eating Disorder), AKA EDNOS (Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified). I found I couldn't reason through it with the ED specialist, possibly because it had absolutely nothing to do with reason. I don't believe my body was demanding sugar because of any emotional issues or history I might have; other than my uncontrollable eating habits (and the physical/mental repercussions of it) I was feeling better than ever. My anxieties were gone. I'd never felt so free. But at the same time, something was nagging at me besides the obvious.
I enjoyed the nutrition class (which was more of a support group), but didn't learn any new info and didn't make any progress. I can pretty much say the same from my new specialist, but I kept up with my appointments, and kept trying to move forward. But then I was hit with some hard news: my insurance company decided to lower the number of appointments I was allowed to have so the appointment I found out at ended up being my last. After that, I think I pretty much gave up on trying. What was the point? I'd make a great effort for several days, but I couldn't last. I
knew I couldn't last. I'd set myself up with a bunch of healthy groceries then would watch them go bad as I made secret runs to the store for cookie and frosting sandwiches.
I felt helpless and completely lost hope of ever making any progress again. I soon realized I was withdrawing from everything, that I had no energy, that I was constantly sad and crying. It's no way to live. I felt sort of a glimmer of hope when my husband and I decided to move out of state. We had often talked about moving closer to both of our extended families, to where he grew up (and where I had only occasionally visited). And with the realization that the Zoloft was no longer working well for me if at all and with the Wellbutrin not making any difference (and with my insurance no longer providing for regular visits with my caretakers), I decided to ween myself off of them. It may not have been my brightest moment, as I know that can be difficult and shouldn't be attempted without professional guidance. But I also felt I had nothing to lose.
I somehow survived all the craziness and chaos of moving in one piece during the withdrawals. Within 3 weeks of the moving date, I felt ready to start fresh and I was determined to stick with a no-sugar-added diet. It was so intimidating. I'd gotten all the way down to 201 months after having my son, and now that he was turning 3 I found myself at 285!!! But after everything seemed to calm down, I realized something about how I was feeling and started to do some research on the Zoloft and SSRIs in general. And the gist of it is ... I am 100% certain that it was the trigger for my binge eating disorder. I mean, I'm sure it's something I'm prone to anyway given my history, and I'm aware that these medications react differently in everyone, but I found a few stories eerily similar to mine. People with lifelong weight issues finally figuring it out and finding the strength and discipline to get healthier, only to get thrown off track and quickly regain when getting prescribed on an SSRI, describing the same out-of-control feelings around carbs that I went through. And honestly, I might have scoffed at such stories had I not been through it myself, because I thought if I could control myself, then anyone could. After this experience, I'll no longer judge anyone in such a way ever again.
Now I'm obviously not a doctor and am by no means an expert, but from what I've read, serotonin controls all sorts of brain function, and the medication did weird things to my impulsiveness and appetite. I
knew what I was doing to myself but I couldn't make myself care
enough to stop what was happening. Losing hope makes everything feel pointless. I have that back though, and am even starting C25K back up again before the month is out. I know I'm on my way again, but that I also have to learn to deal with my anxieties, depression, and OCD in new ways.
Anyway, long story short, I used to weigh 360, eventually got down to 201. I was prescribed Zoloft, stayed on it for 2 and a half years with insanely intense sugar cravings, and gained back 84 pounds in the process. Went off the Zoloft, started to feel normal around food again, and lost 39 pounds in the past six months, nearly half of what I gained back! I feel really lucky to have figured all this out. I feel extraordinarily lucky that I didn't gain
all of my weight back and then some. And heck, today I realized that it would be good to check back in here at 3FC.
The funniest part? When I last logged in back in 2015, my weight had climbed up to 246. And that's exactly what I'm back down to now!
Funny how that works.
I'm Back!
