Posted on February 24, 2018
I have experienced anxiety dreams, in one form or another, for most of my life. I don’t know very much about the science behind dreaming but as I understand it, we tend to have anxiety dreams when we’re trying to cope with stressful stuff, or they are our brain’s way of telling us that we need to deal with something. Some of the common ones include losing something important, finding yourself naked in public, being chased, and scenarios involving the end of the world. I have had all of these at one point or another so I thought I’d write down the ones that stick out most in my mind and put them out into the world. Maybe some of you guys can relate.
The first anxiety dream I remember having was about being trapped in a car. The car was sitting at the top of a hill, on a street I knew well, and then it suddenly began to roll down towards the busy main road. I was stuck inside, panicking and unable to make it stop. I always woke up before I reached the bottom but I can still feeling that suffocating fear. I think these started when I was about five or six and I had them many times for several years. Then, when I was a teenager, they changed slightly. Instead of being stuck in a moving car, I was suddenly expected to drive somewhere without knowing how, without ever having had a lesson. I don’t know why but the expectation that I could was definitely there. I would get in the car and attempt to drive and while I was initially successful, it was just a matter of time before something went wrong. This is apparently a very common anxiety dream, which isn’t surprising given that most of us hate feeling out of control.
My most common recurring dream is one where my teeth start falling out. There are a couple of different variations of this: sometimes my teeth just become wobbly and slowly fall out one by one, and sometimes they just disintegrate in my mouth and I’m spitting out fragments of enamel. They’re incredibly vivid and I’m always convinced that they’re real. I wake up breathless and disorientated. I have no idea where this one comes from or whether it means anything. I don’t subscribe to the theory that when you dream, specific things have specific meanings, but it seems pretty likely that feeling out of control in a dream links to feeling out of control in some part of your life. I still don’t know what teeth are supposed to represent though.
There’s another one that I’ve only started having recently. I’m walking into college, heading to a Maths lesson when I remember that I haven’t been to a Maths lesson in months and therefore will be expected to hand in months of late homework which I do not have. I could just not go but the exams are getting ever closer and I need to learn it all. My anxiety is just starting to spiral when I wake up and it takes me a while to untangle myself from it. If I were going to guess the meaning, I’d say it had something to do with my fear of falling behind and not being good enough. And getting into trouble. But that’s not a big leap to make.
I don’t know how anxiety dreams fit in to the picture when you live with an anxiety disorder, when you live with significant levels of anxiety every single day. Does it mean that the level of anxiety necessary to trigger the dreams is just higher? Maybe every dream we have is an anxiety dream but we only remember a fraction of them… I don’t know what the answers are. But I thought I’d put my experience out there and see if anyone relates to it. If any of you have had anxiety dreams, I’d love to hear how similar or different they are to mine.
Posted on November 1, 2017
Just over a month ago, I started taking Venlafaxine for my depression. I’ve tried lots of different anti depressants in the past, many of which I had a bad reaction to, so I was nervous. Weaning myself off the Phenelzine was hard and I was very, very depressed but somehow, I reached a point where I felt ready to feel different. It was a bit like breaking the surface after being underwater. I was, and still am, desperate to feel better.
I started on a very low dose, half the lowest therapeutic dose, so that my body could get used to it. But despite that, I felt the effects straight away and incredibly strongly. I was very nauseous. It was so bad that I couldn’t really concentrate on anything else; all my concentration was focussed on not throwing up. It made me dizzy and I was tired all the time. I did check with my psychiatrist to make sure it was okay to keep going with it and he said it would pass so I focussed on tolerating it.
The other immediate change was my sleep. I went from struggling to wake up before eleven (and I mean really struggling: it felt like I was drowning) to being wide awake at eight o’clock in the morning. It was bizarre.
The nausea faded around the beginning of the second week, which I was very grateful for. My mood, while still pretty low, was stable, and I was still waking up much earlier than I had been able to previously. However I started having headaches and I was exhausted all the time, which made it very hard to do anything.
In the third week, I went up to the lowest therapeutic dose. This caused a pretty dramatic reaction. For the first few days I was so tired that I fell asleep in the middle of the day, something I haven’t done in years. But despite that, I was waking up even earlier, between six and six thirty am.
By the middle of the week, I couldn’t concentrate at all. I couldn’t hold a conversation, I couldn’t follow the storyline of a forty-minute TV episode, I couldn’t even play a game on my phone… That was scary, but I couldn’t even really feel that because I couldn’t seem to process the emotion. I started to feel faint and very shaky and that went on for several days. If I stood up for longer than a couple of minutes, my legs started to shake and my hands shook so badly that I couldn’t hold a pen. That was very unpleasant.
Most of the fourth week was lost because of severe, unexplained leg pain that had me in tears. My psychiatrist didn’t think it had anything to do with the medication and DVT was ruled out but other than that, we don’t know what caused it. I’ve been taking painkillers since and it’s been better. So that tired me out and overwhelmed everything else. But since then, the shaking has mostly stopped and I’m back to waking up between eight and nine in the morning.
This week is the first where I’ve felt different mentally and emotionally while taking Venlafaxine. I wouldn’t say I feel better but I’ve been feeling a bit lighter. That feels very strange and a bit scary. With this new lightness, I’ve been feeling a bit lost which I’ve written about here. I’ve been so depressed for so long that I can’t remember what it’s like to not be depressed. But despite all of those confusing emotions, I am pleased that this medication is starting to work. It will probably take another month or so to really know how it’s affecting me but it’s looking positive and I’m really grateful for that.