I have this theory though, that depression is kind of like cancer. In that it is never really cured, only in remission. When things are going right, you can feel cured, and be in total remission, but bad times can trigger it again.
And if they do, it isn't your fault.
I have had similar experiences (I was a total shit in high school too, you know, heh.). I got sent to the psych once, but basically sat there for half an hour shrugging my shoulders and giving one word answers while focussing all my energy on not crying in front of them. They didn't make me go again, obviously saw it wasn't gonna do any good if I refused to talk.
Anyway, I have been up and down since then; voluntarily saw a counsellor last year, but only went once because it hit a bit close. And I am social-phobic, so that makes talking to counsellors quite difficult.
A few months ago I had a weird sort of breakdown. Something really wonderful happened for a friend of mine, and I couldn't handle it because it took her attention from me. It was totally irrational, and I knew it the whole time (this made it even worse, because I felt stupid and obsessive and fucked up and I couldn't hide it from her, either.) She understood, but I also felt bad for "raining on her parade" as it were, and it all spiralled down to a two day crying jag. Luke didn't know what to do with me, either.
So anyway, I vowed this was not going to continue, and the next day I went to the GP and asked for some meds. That was bloody hard, as I'm sure you can imagine.
First one had some icky side effects, but now I'm on Lovan and it's working. The reason I finally gave in and asked for them was not the depression, either. I just couldn't handle the rollercoaster anymore.
I didn't mean this comment to be so long, damn. Basically my point is don't shun meds. They are useful and nothing to be ashamed of, and I can say this from the other side. I used to feel that if I gave in and asked for antidepressants then I had somehow failed as a human. Now I am so glad I did, because in about 3 months I have gone from mopey slumming around the house in trackpants all day every day to working full time and feeling hopeful about the future.
And hopefully soon I can go off the meds again. The buggers are making me gain a bit of weight.
I have this theory though, that depression is kind of like cancer. In that it is never really cured, only in remission. When things are going right, you can feel cured, and be in total remission, but bad times can trigger it again.
And if they do, it isn't your fault.
I have had similar experiences (I was a total shit in high school too, you know, heh.). I got sent to the psych once, but basically sat there for half an hour shrugging my shoulders and giving one word answers while focussing all my energy on not crying in front of them. They didn't make me go again, obviously saw it wasn't gonna do any good if I refused to talk.
Anyway, I have been up and down since then; voluntarily saw a counsellor last year, but only went once because it hit a bit close. And I am social-phobic, so that makes talking to counsellors quite difficult.
A few months ago I had a weird sort of breakdown. Something really wonderful happened for a friend of mine, and I couldn't handle it because it took her attention from me. It was totally irrational, and I knew it the whole time (this made it even worse, because I felt stupid and obsessive and fucked up and I couldn't hide it from her, either.) She understood, but I also felt bad for "raining on her parade" as it were, and it all spiralled down to a two day crying jag. Luke didn't know what to do with me, either.
So anyway, I vowed this was not going to continue, and the next day I went to the GP and asked for some meds. That was bloody hard, as I'm sure you can imagine.
First one had some icky side effects, but now I'm on Lovan and it's working. The reason I finally gave in and asked for them was not the depression, either. I just couldn't handle the rollercoaster anymore.
I didn't mean this comment to be so long, damn. Basically my point is don't shun meds. They are useful and nothing to be ashamed of, and I can say this from the other side. I used to feel that if I gave in and asked for antidepressants then I had somehow failed as a human. Now I am so glad I did, because in about 3 months I have gone from mopey slumming around the house in trackpants all day every day to working full time and feeling hopeful about the future.
And hopefully soon I can go off the meds again. The buggers are making me gain a bit of weight.
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