Dear Dr. Archer:
I have been diagnosed with anxiety and mild depression. I’ve been self-medicating with marijuana for many years as a means to relax. I stopped using pot altogether, but now I’m having uncomfortable withdrawal symptoms. My anxiety is worse, and I’m having very disturbing dreams.
Is there a treatment or medication to help someone who has been a heavy marijuana user for decades who, after withdrawal, experiences disturbing and vivid dreams that are so uncomfortable that they dread going to sleep at night? Last night I woke up screaming, and my heart was pounding. Going back to sleep was very difficult.
I understand that pot tends to inhibit or suppress the dream mechanism of the brain, or at least prevents the user from remembering many dreams. Can I expect this undesirable withdrawal symptom of disturbing dreams to subside eventually, or should I seek some sort of professional help in the matter? Any advice will be sincerely appreciated.
Rod
Hi Rod,
Congratulations on stopping your drug use. Marijuana is not thought of as an addicting drug, but heavy users like you frequently suffer from withdrawal symptoms.
Due to its high saturation in body fat it takes a long time for the drug to totally leave the system. I’ve had patients test positive on a drug screen a month after their last use of the substance.
The bad news is that because of this, you can expect your symptoms to last a couple of months. The good news is that in most cases they eventually go away.
However, the key is that if you have a true underlying chemical imbalance that was being “self-medicated” by the marijuana, this condition may need legitimate treatment.
I would go to your family doctor or a psychiatrist and tell him what you’re going through, because every case is different. I’ve used sleeping pills or anxiety medication in cases like this to help patients get through the worst of the symptoms, and sometimes that’s enough.
Just remember that any symptoms that are still present after three months probably are not related to the drug use and require additional evaluation and treatment.
Dr. Archer
Dear Dr. Archer,
My precious 33-month-old son died in an accidental drowning almost five months ago. I thought he was taking his nap, but when we went to wake him, his window was open and we found him floating in the pool.
We are completely devastated by his death. He was a beautiful, smart, funny boy with blue eyes and blonde curls. I miss him so much! He loved to sit on my lap and play games, sing songs and read stories. He loved to play with his brothers and sisters. He was a ray of sunshine to our family every day, and the pain of losing him feels unbearable.
I know God has comforted us, because we are able to function more normally now than at first. The panic attacks have stopped, the nightmares are fewer, and although I cry often, it’s not all the time anymore.
But it all feels hollow without my son. It feels like we are pretending to live a normal life, when it will never be normal again.
I don’t know how to live with the guilt and failure. I love my children dearly, but I have to come to terms with the fact that loving them isn’t enough to make me a good mother. I loved my son tremendously, and I thought we had sufficient safety precautions around the pool. After all, none of the other children ever went near the pool without an adult.
We have a fence around the pool. We have latches on the gates. I don’t know why the latch wasn’t on the gate that day. The windows have locks — not childproof locks, but none of the other children ever climbed out of their window, so I always thought a regular lock was enough of a deterrent for a small child. What I thought was enough wasn’t enough for my son.
I’ve failed at the central role and responsibility of my life. My son needed me. His life depended on me, and I let him down. I always thought of myself as being the kind of mother who would always be there for her children. I dream so often of living that day over. I am ashamed to leave the house. I feel I need to apologize to everyone I see for not protecting my precious son. My heart and arms ache for him every day.
The world seems very different to me now than it did a few months ago. I feel confused and disoriented. My identity as a mother is shattered.
Jennifer
Dear Jennifer,
Please accept my deepest condolences on the loss of your beloved son. Your letter has touched me very deeply; the love for your son, as well as your anguish, pours forth from your words. You have suffered the greatest loss any parent can suffer, and I am sincerely and deeply sorry for your loss.
It’s normal to wish to go back in time; to make it okay. It’s normal to wonder why the window’s locks didn’t secure your son in the home; it’s normal to wonder why the latch on the gate wasn’t secured; it’s normal to wonder why, why, why?
But the real question anytime something like this happens is, why did this have to happen to my baby? And ultimately, every mother in your position questions: How could I have let this happen?
The fact of the matter is that you took the precautions that any one of us would assume were adequate. You had locks on the window and on the gate at the pool. You were doing your work as you do every day. That may not be much solace, but time really is your friend. Every mother who has lost her child asks the same question, no matter what the circumstance, but the pain eases with time.
I assure you that parents who lost their child — whether to drowning, automobile accidents, fire, disease, crib death, freak accidents or whatever claimed the life of the child — always feel the guilt you are experiencing. It’s perfectly normal. It’s also part of the grieving process to ask, “Why did this happen? Why didn’t I stop this from happening? How could I have let this happen? How do I go on without him?”
You did nothing wrong. You took precautions. But there are some things we can’t understand or explain. It’s fate, not fault. You had your beautiful son for 33 months, and for 33 months he knew a mother’s love that knew no bounds. For 33 months he was the ray of sunshine in your home. And then, for reasons no one can explain, God was ready for him and brought him to his true home.
Your grief has touched you to your core; it’s a part of you now. You will never go a day without thinking of your son.
But the day will come when you will come to appreciate that grief; it’s your connection with your son.
This will be a lifelong process, but the day will come when you think of your son, and you’ll smile at his memory. He was a beloved gift, and for 33 months he was your pride and joy. And for 33 months, you were his.
From this day forward, live your life fully and generously because of this tragic accident. Honor your son by being the best mother, wife and friend you can be.
I urge you to attend a bereavement group for parents who have lost a child. If there isn’t one in your area, then start one. Others who have had the same experience can be an outstanding source of support.
Focus your pain and grief and sorrow on helping others; make this a purpose for your life. You will learn to be gentle and patient with yourself, and you deserve that. You’ve beat yourself up enough.
I once heard a woman who lost her child say the mention of her son’s name brought tears to her eyes, but was also music to her ears. I want that for you. I wish you much peace in your life.
Dr. Archer
Dr. Dale Archer is a board certified psychiatrist who founded the Institute for Neuropsychiatry in Southwest Louisiana. He is a frequent guest on Fox News, CNN Headline News and other national TV programs and the author of the New York Times’ best-selling book Better than Normal. Visit him at DrDaleArcher.com.
Comments are closed.