Tuesday, August 26, 2014

Can't Do It Alone

I've been weaning off of antidepressants (well, TRYING) since probably January of this year and had to go on another antidepressant to get off the 1st one. It's not working. My anxiety is through the roof and I'm sick with worry over things that I can't even define. Things that I would have been able to deal with in an appropriate manner now send me into tears. I couldn't sleep for 2 days straight, nor could I eat, and I can no longer remember why it seemed so important to me to go off of antidepressants in the first place. So, I called the doctor and got an appointment and got on a therapeutic dose of the 2nd antidepressant I was taking to get off the 1st. Oh, and something to sleep at night, until that SSRI kicks in.

The thing is, I remember this feeling as EXACTLY what I felt almost every day of my life from about 3rd grade on. This used to be my normal. No wonder I was so fucked up in my teenage years. After 10 or so years of normalcy, to go back to that was unbearable for even 3 days. No wonder I wanted to never wake up every single time I went to sleep. No wonder I was so sickly thin in my youth. Fuck. There is no way I can do that again.

I've read different internet articles wherein people speak about how you're not "living authentically" when you're on an antidepressant, that the reason you're depressed is because you need more therapy to deal with other shit you've repressed, that you should WELCOME the heightened emotions because it means you're ALIVE. Well, shit all over that. I firmly believe that the people who believe these things have not reached the same emotional depths that some of us have, the depths that have made me believe that hell is actually a state of mind.

I've done therapy, I've made the hardest change I never thought I could in going NC, I have a life that's worth living. I will be damned if I'll let my fucking brain ruin it. I will not let my faulty neurons make me into a selfish, sobbing wretch, steal me from my children, bludgeon any joy I see in this world. I will not let me be over because at some point I have convinced myself I didn't need the help that these medications give me.

I am weak, but I am going to be strong again.

6 comments:

  1. No contact is a step in the right direction

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  2. Yes, we all have a life worth living. It's good to go into NC.

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  3. Hey Bess - depression is no joke. I know it I know it I know it. I know it like I know my name - and by that I mean I KNOW DEPRESSION. People don't know how it feels - it isn't SADNESS. It's empty. It's a cavern. It's awful. It isn't wanting to KILL YOURSELF, it's thinking that dying doesn't sound so bad.

    Do what you have to do, take what meds you need to take. The FDA has spent gabillions researching this very thing, and if what they offer helps you, do it.

    Understanding how and why SSRIs and SDRIs worked was pivotal for me and my search for answers to my own depression. The best way I can describe a re-uptake inhibitor (whether dopamine or seratonin) is say your brain goes to the seratonin/dopamine bank to make a withdrawal, to USE some of those precious brain feel-good chemicals. The bank teller starts to sliiide the good stuff across the desk, then *yoink* "re-uptakes" it. The inhibitors force the teller to give it up to the brain (MY how dirty that sounds!) Those SSRIs and SDRIs WORK and give your brain what it needs to feel good. Personally I need dopamine, so wellbutrin works for me. So does exercise, but I couldn't exercise when I couldn't even get out of freaking bed. Or was curled up in a corner worrying about leftover pot roast/my kid dying in Afghanistan, and both of those things seemed the same size to me at the time.

    The next step maybe is figuring out how to get your own body to manufacturer those chemicals in greater quantities, by itself. But that is what The Power Of Google is for. You will find your answers. I know from experience - you cant get from *here* to *there* if you cannot get out of bed, if you cannot see the point of showering anymore... I know it. So take the meds and if someone judges you for using them send 'em MY way.

    This, if you are in the mood to laugh/cry with recognition, is the absolute best description of depression I have ever read: http://hyperboleandahalf.blogspot.com/2013/05/depression-part-two.html

    There is a part one too - but that link... *whew*. Nobody ever understood it better. And this won't make any sense until you read it, but I hope you find your floor corn. :)

    Email me if you want to talk. About anything. I am applauding you for taking control of your wayward brain.

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  4. P.S. if I am telling you what you already know about the drugs I apologize. I don't mean to be a dick.

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    1. You're not a dick. I just got up the gumption to look at the link you posted above, right after I posted my most recent post to this blog, and it was fucking awesome. Thanks. :)

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  5. Bess, I am late to this post, but this really spoke to me. One thought I keep as my response to the no drugs crowd is this: my entire family is dysfunctional mentally, that means our brains haven't been able to work properly for generations. Growing up with mentally ill people all around is known to mess with children's brains, so I need the help and then hopefully my kids won't need it.

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