I literally feel your pain: depresson is a wrenching, distorting disease. I am a lucky girl, though -- first, for having Joanne know what to do when she saw the symptoms (she's nothing if nor "take-charge"...), and second, for fairly quickly finding the right meds and -- after sacking the first shrink -- the right therapist.
But, pardon me for being blunt, your words "have to medicate" seem to suggest it's not your preferred option -- when, IMHO, it often should be. To me, it seems simple: a chemical imbalance in one's brain more or less demands a CHEMICAL response. Seratonin is the basic problem; one or another med CAN correct it. Again, I was lucky: Wellbutrin has no apparent side-effects, particularly on one's libido. The first shrink had me on Depakote, which is an awful drug -- though sometimes unavoidable, I suppose. He thought taking it for 90 days would "fix" me; he was WRONG -- I slid back into depression. At that point, though, I KNEW Depakote was bad; we found a new shrink who immediately put me on Wellbutrin ER -- et voila! Orgasms! Later, fine-tuning, he added a little Zoloft.
I can't NOT mention the THIRD professional I encountered, and -- I might have guessed! -- the first woman! Beth was someone I could share EVERYTHING with, and 6 months of weekly "couch" sessions got me to a place where she felt I was fully functional. She warned me, though, based on the time together, that I'd need to stay with the meds permanently. That was 11 years ago; they still work well. (Every once in a while, my morning routine gets disrupted, I forget the pills -- and by late afternoon, I begin to feel the lack. Literally, the bleakness comes crowding back!)
Sweetie, it was so great of you to respond to my scribble. I don't say Wellbutrin is YOUR answer -- just that meds are not ipso facto unnatural or morally "wrong." As you wrote, when one is "hyper," she easily deludes herself about what's truly required. But, if you need 'em, you need 'em!
Again, I do sympathize with anyone suffering any of these inter-related maladies -- at least, I think they are all thought to be connected to serotonin "uptake." I googled Cyclothymia, which is new to me -- hey, I've learned something useful this morning. The main thing, I guess, is the episodic nature of one's mood swings -- but evidently it is serotonin-related.
And I agree that "telling people" is an important part of dealing with it. Quite a while ago, I read the novelist Wliiam Styron's landmark book, relating his lifetime of suffering -- and hiding! And my most severe episode (in 2002) found me "hiding out" in Florida, having had a horrid fight with Joanne and separating bitterly.
Of ALL people I might choose to reveal how badly off I was, I wound up telling her on the phone (she was driving up in New England) of my utter despair -- we'd been apart a few weeks.
And, as I wrote, she SAW the blackness and flew down, and we tearfully confronted my problem. (Believe me, though, I recognize she was part of the problem, as well as of the solution... it remains, ironically, a trying relationship -- pure "Who's Afraid of Virginia Wolfe?" The worst part is her own refusal to deal with HER mental problems.)
I literally feel your pain: depresson is a wrenching, distorting disease. I am a lucky girl, though -- first, for having Joanne know what to do when she saw the symptoms (she's nothing if nor "take-charge"...), and second, for fairly quickly finding the right meds and -- after sacking the first shrink -- the right therapist.
But, pardon me for being blunt, your words "have to medicate" seem to suggest it's not your preferred option -- when, IMHO, it often should be. To me, it seems simple: a chemical imbalance in one's brain more or less demands a CHEMICAL response. Seratonin is the basic problem; one or another med CAN correct it. Again, I was lucky: Wellbutrin has no apparent side-effects, particularly on one's libido. The first shrink had me on Depakote, which is an awful drug -- though sometimes unavoidable, I suppose. He thought taking it for 90 days would "fix" me; he was WRONG -- I slid back into depression. At that point, though, I KNEW Depakote was bad; we found a new shrink who immediately put me on Wellbutrin ER -- et voila! Orgasms! Later, fine-tuning, he added a little Zoloft.
I can't NOT mention the THIRD professional I encountered, and -- I might have guessed! -- the first woman! Beth was someone I could share EVERYTHING with, and 6 months of weekly "couch" sessions got me to a place where she felt I was fully functional. She warned me, though, based on the time together, that I'd need to stay with the meds permanently. That was 11 years ago; they still work well. (Every once in a while, my morning routine gets disrupted, I forget the pills -- and by late afternoon, I begin to feel the lack. Literally, the bleakness comes crowding back!)
Sweetie, it was so great of you to respond to my scribble. I don't say Wellbutrin is YOUR answer -- just that meds are not ipso facto unnatural or morally "wrong." As you wrote, when one is "hyper," she easily deludes herself about what's truly required. But, if you need 'em, you need 'em!
Hugz, Justine
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(The comment has been removed)
Again, I do sympathize with anyone suffering any of these inter-related maladies -- at least, I think they are all thought to be connected to serotonin "uptake." I googled Cyclothymia, which is new to me -- hey, I've learned something useful this morning. The main thing, I guess, is the episodic nature of one's mood swings -- but evidently it is serotonin-related.
And I agree that "telling people" is an important part of dealing with it. Quite a while ago, I read the novelist Wliiam Styron's landmark book, relating his lifetime of suffering -- and hiding! And my most severe episode (in 2002) found me "hiding out" in Florida, having had a horrid fight with Joanne and separating bitterly.
Of ALL people I might choose to reveal how badly off I was, I wound up telling her on the phone (she was driving up in New England) of my utter despair -- we'd been apart a few weeks.
And, as I wrote, she SAW the blackness and flew down, and we tearfully confronted my problem. (Believe me, though, I recognize she was part of the problem, as well as of the solution... it remains, ironically, a trying relationship -- pure "Who's Afraid of Virginia Wolfe?" The worst part is her own refusal to deal with HER mental problems.)
Hugz, Justine
Reply
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