When Celexa x'd out sex

by Isobel Davies

From the Editrix: Isobel is our newest columnist, who will be writing about sex and sensuality in the lives of ChronicBabes. She'll be sharing personal experiences and observations, but there's also room for reader input - so speak up, fellow Babes!

About a year ago, I was going through a really tough time. My chronic pain condition was flaring bad; I was in constant pain and frequently exhausted. My work was unfulfilling, and I had an idea I thought would change things, but I just felt overwhelmed by the prospect of diving into something new. Then a family dispute threw me entirely off balance, and after three or four days of crying non-stop I went to my primary care doctor to ask for help.

Give me the drugs.

I had gone through depressive periods throughout my life, but never one this strong. So after a lifetime of avoiding antidepressants, I decided to give it a try. My doctor felt like Celexa was a good drug to start with, and it was one of the few medications I hadn't heard bad things about, so I went for it.

After a couple of weeks, I started to feel a little more balanced. Work didn't feel so overwhelming, I started to regain interest in some of the creative outlets I had ignored for so long, and I even felt interested in sex again. This was a big relief: for years, even during my worst flare-ups, sex seemed to calm my nerves, reduce my pain, and help keep me connected with Jeff, my boyfriend.

But as the weeks went by, I felt my libido dwindle again. And not just with Jeff. Not even my most tried-and-true methods for masturbation were working. Nothing. Total equipment failure.

Thank goodness for Showtime

For a while I thought it was just the exhaustion and pain, or maybe my frustration with work was leaking into the bedroom, or I wasn't handling family stresses well.

Then I watched "Weeds."

You know, that show on Showtime, where the housewife sells marijuana and her no-good brother is always around making trouble. One night, he was talking about something with another character and mentioned that he had been on Celexa for a while, but he couldn't orgasm, so he stopped taking it.

My ears perked up. What did he say? Excuse me? I rewound the tape and listened again. Yup: he said he was on Celexa, and he said he couldn't cum. Oh. My. Goodness.

Anecdotal evidence

I hopped on the computer and started doing some digging. Sure enough, I found lots of stories about Celexa and its worst side effect: reduction (or, in my case, elimination) of libido. See also: vaginal dryness, loss of sensation, inability to climax. Grr.

A few days later, I was back at the doctor's office. "I'm feeling like the depression is passing, and I'm making lifestyle choices to help with it, like working out more and meditating and pursuing social activities and creative outlets," I explained. "But I don't feel like having sex, and even when I try it doesn't work, and it's only been since I've been on the Celexa, and it's driving me crazy. So I'd like to go off the Celexa. Now. Please."

Celexa can have that effect on as many as 60% of patients, my doctor explained matter-of-factly. WHAT?! Sixty percent?! That's huge! My prescription bottles come with all kinds of stickers with warnings like, "Do not eat grapefruit while taking this medication" and "Do not operate heavy machinery while taking this medication." Shouldn't there be a sticker that says, "You will not have sex while taking this medication"?

He recommended that I slowly taper off of the medication, and reminded me to tell my pain specialist, so we could all be on the same page.

A difference of opinion

A few days later, I talked to my pain doc. Celexa has that effect on a small population, he explained matter-of-factly. Hmm. He said that usually, he tried to combat the no-libido issue by adding another medication, Wellbutrin. Hmm. This did not compute. I hemmed and hawed, and eventually gave in, agreeing to add the Wellbutrin.

The bottle sat on my bathroom counter for weeks. My intuition told me it was ridiculous to add a pill to fix the side effects of another pill. I respect both my primary care physician and my pain specialist, and I'm a good patient - always follow doctors' orders - but they had never offered differing approaches before, so it was hard to choose. Finally, I went with the Wellbutrin.

Day 1: feeling good. Day 2: feeling really good, and happy with the decision. Day 3: practially euphoric. This Wellbutrin stuff is awesome! Day 4: crash and burn. Bitchy, deflated, exhausted. Days 5 and 6: nightmares. Headaches. Miserable.

And still, no sex.

Meanwhile, Jeff was tugging at my sleeve every day. "Are you feeling better yet," he'd ask? Like me, he was frustrated. Unlike me, he was patient, sure we'd find a solution. I called my primary care physician and explained the situation. He agreed that the Wellbutrin had been worth trying, but since the results had been less than optimal he told me to go off of it and then taper off the Celexa like we had discussed originally.

So the Wellbutrin went in the trash, and I spent a month tapering off the Celexa. A couple weeks into the tapering down I saw my pain specialist and told him what I had done. He cautioned: Don't be worried if you don't see results right away; it can take a few weeks for all the medication to leave your system. Urgh! I felt so frustrated. It seemed like a million years since I'd gotten laid.

Did I mention that I was impatient?

Three days after I had finished the Celexa I dusted off my favorite vibrator. I was anxious. Would I be able to do this? Would I frustrate myself even more if I couldn't? It was worth a try. And BAM was it worth a try! With next to no effort I was, shall we say, cured. I called Jeff at work and told him I was feeling very much better, thank you, and could he rush home from work that night. I found all my cutest underwear. And we celebrated. The first time we made it happen, I cried - it was such an enormous relief to feel like myself again.

So what did I learn from all this? A few key things that I'm happy to share with you:

Listen to your doctors, but do your own research, too. Bring it to their attention. Be an active partner in your care so you can avoid issues like this, or at least solve them quickly.
Trust your intuition. When someone suggests a solution that sounds like it could become another problem, don't just go for it without asking questions. Listen to your heart. Don't be shy about voicing your concerns.
What works great for someone you know, even someone you trust and respect, may not work for you. So take your friends' advice with a grain of salt. (I knew other people who liked Celexa just fine.) If it works for you, awesome! If it doesn't work for you, move on to something else.
If sex is important to you, don't let someone convince you that it's worth giving up so you can take a specific medication. (Not that my doctors tried to do that, but I've met other women who experienced that.) There are LOTS of medications out there, which can be combined in many ways, and there is likely a solution for you.

Isobel Davies is a lifelong writer and sometimes agitator who's spent time in New England, the South, the Midwest, California, and many points in between. After struggling with multiple chronic illnesses, she's overcoming some shyness to talk frankly about sex because she thinks it's important for women to be honest about their real life experiences.

And Jenni the Editrix asks me to tell you that: We do our best to provide accurate information, but ChronicBabe.com is not meant as a substitute for professional medical care, diagnosis or treatment. Please consult your health care provider before embarking on any new treatment. Read our whole disclaimer here.

Posted: 5/2/2006 in Chronically Sexy | Also posted in: Relationships

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