On May, 17, 2006 I married my wife. May 1, 2010 she begins tapering onto Effexor. Then on May 29, less than a month later, she forces me to leave our apartment for the last time.
In the third marriage counseling session she tells me that I couldn't be a last resort because she doesn't consider me an option anymore. She wanted a divorce, she said. I went to my attorney and had them file the papers the same day.
What happened in that month? A lot. We'll get to that in time. It is the hardest thing I've ever had to deal with in my entire life. Harder still because my heartbreak barely registers on her drug dampened emotions. Almost like if someone shot me in the stomach with a twelve gage, and she, seeing me attempting to hold what's left of my intestines in, says casually, "What? It's just a flesh wound."
It really feels as if she died in a tragic car accident, only to be resurrected by zombie aliens who implanted her with a Vulcan personality of Bill Clinton.
The person I knew as my wife is gone, her personality and soul ripped out of her body along with the love she had for me. It will never return as long as she is on Effexor, and so far she says she really likes it -- that she never felt more like herself, as if that statement makes any sense at all.
Thus, Effexor is the enemy. This story has been repeated over and over. I am not the first and I won't be the last. Fortunately, many of those, who have suffered from taking this drug or have suffered through a loved one taking this drug, are starting to speak out. I will join the chorus of my allies.
And even though our marriage is mortally wounded, I am not. And while I live, Effexor delenda est.
This means war.
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