I'm coming up on five months.
I've been on the antidepressants and going to therapy for about five months. I thought it would be a good idea to do an overall status report, just to have a record in more detail to how the treatment is going and how I've been doing.
I was scared to go on the medication. People never have happy stories about seeking treatment for depression. It's always side effects and incompatibility and sickness all the way down. And it felt like cheating, like I wasn't able to take care of myself with my own body and I had to use some outside force to fix me. My physician suggested medication almost immediately but I wanted to see a psychiatrist first. My physician is a great woman, I have never felt so much respect and trust for a doctor before. She has an anxiety disorder too, and she told me that medication was what worked for her, so that was why she was so quick to recommend it.
She told me that I shouldn't be ashamed of being broken, but rather I should be proud of being so amazingly functional despite all the challenges in my way. That was a way I had never considered looking at it before. It made talking about the medication with the psychiatrist easier.
My Psychiatrist put me on Prozac immediately. At first it felt like he was pushing pills on me, but the more we talked about it the more it felt like an option I was willing to consider. It helped that I looked into the medications before hand, so I was expecting talks of side effects and not being compatible and probably having to switch a few times before I found something that "worked". That it would take weeks to take effect. I went into it expecting bad things. He suggested therapy was a must, but the pills would help. I agreed.
I started to feel something almost immediately. I started sleeping better, started smiling more. There were fewer mornings where I laid in bed paralyzed at the thought of getting up. And within a week or two I felt amazing. I was certain I was fooling myself, that I was just tricking myself into feeling better through the placebo effect, but I only got better. At my three month check up, my Psychiatrist was thrilled. Everyone around me started telling me that they could see a difference, even if they didn't actually know why. Something that was bubbling under the surface that a lot of people didn't know was there was clearing up, and they could finally see me clearly again. I was able to do things I couldn't do before without feeling like I was going to throw up. It was amazing and terrifying at the same time.
Therapy was scary as well. You don't like to think of yourself as having problems, but having an outside perspective on your life really opens your eyes. I didn't realize how much of a wreck I was becoming, but also how much of a wreck I was allowing other people to make me. Taking the medication gave me the ability to finally think clearly about all of the challenges I faced, but therapy gave me the tools to deal with them. My therapist has talked me through problems with my family, with my anxiety, with my friends, with myself. Just having someone to talk to that wasn't capable of judging me on a personal level was a huge relief.
The medication continues, though I'm no longer getting better and better. I finally hit the ceiling, I told my therapist, and now I'm trying to figure out where my walls are. I still feel great, but I know I still have a ways to go to get where I want to be. My driving anxiety is better, but still not under control. Making a video of myself driving showed me that much. I thought I was getting a lot better, but watching myself out of my element changed everything. I'm still tense as heck and hurting all over. I didn't even realize it. My relationship with my parents is getting better. Having the patience to deal with them is really all the medication has given me. They've also eased up on me a bit, I think that they feel guilty about the level of denial they had about my problems before the incident at the wedding. My therapist has had a lot of suggestions for cohabitation with them, and some have been really good. It's much easier to be focusing on your mental health when you're not getting into knock-down drag-out screaming fights at the drop of a hat.
I cry much less than I used to. In January I cried at least once a day. I would lay in bed and cry at the thought of being alive for another second. I was simply overwhelmed at the very idea of having to exist. These days I don't cry at all, save for really emotional moments in video games.
It's not all great. The medication has had side effects, one of which is constant yawning. I am not at all tired, I'm getting all the sleep I could ever want, but I am yawning basically all the time. People are concerned that I'm not getting enough sleep or that I'm disinterested, but it's really the opposite. I'm reflexively yawning for no reason. There are some minor digestion issues, but nothing I couldn't live with. I just have to be more careful about what I'm eating and when I'm eating. And my sex drive has taken a nose dive, but I'm not sexually active with my partner so that isn't the worst thing ever. Something we'll have to be aware of in the future. Morgan is very understanding of it. I am more cuddly now, though.
Painting feels harder. My greatest fear in taking medication was that it would change my personality in a way that would effect my art. I don't know if it has or not, but I do feel less creative. Perhaps it is just a phase. I won't know for certain until I try to do more of it. Wish I had the inspiration, but I realized how much of my inspiration was actually based on pain, so that could have something to do with it. Still, hopeful for change.
The therapy can't fix everything either, I still have a lot of personal work to do with my anxiety. Still have to work on the self-deprecation and controlling my fear. But it doesn't feel unmanageable now. I feel like it's actually possible. Like someday, I could be fully together.
My Psychiatrist says the medication is just a band aid. That I may need to keep it on a while as my body learns to heal itself again, or that I could only need it a little while to aid in a small fracture of my consciousness. They won't really know until later. This could be a temporary thing that needed help, or a forever thing that I have to live with. I don't know yet.
But for the first time in what feels like over ten years, I feel like I am making a difference in my own life. And I finally feel like I'm living.
I was scared to go on the medication. People never have happy stories about seeking treatment for depression. It's always side effects and incompatibility and sickness all the way down. And it felt like cheating, like I wasn't able to take care of myself with my own body and I had to use some outside force to fix me. My physician suggested medication almost immediately but I wanted to see a psychiatrist first. My physician is a great woman, I have never felt so much respect and trust for a doctor before. She has an anxiety disorder too, and she told me that medication was what worked for her, so that was why she was so quick to recommend it.
She told me that I shouldn't be ashamed of being broken, but rather I should be proud of being so amazingly functional despite all the challenges in my way. That was a way I had never considered looking at it before. It made talking about the medication with the psychiatrist easier.
My Psychiatrist put me on Prozac immediately. At first it felt like he was pushing pills on me, but the more we talked about it the more it felt like an option I was willing to consider. It helped that I looked into the medications before hand, so I was expecting talks of side effects and not being compatible and probably having to switch a few times before I found something that "worked". That it would take weeks to take effect. I went into it expecting bad things. He suggested therapy was a must, but the pills would help. I agreed.
I started to feel something almost immediately. I started sleeping better, started smiling more. There were fewer mornings where I laid in bed paralyzed at the thought of getting up. And within a week or two I felt amazing. I was certain I was fooling myself, that I was just tricking myself into feeling better through the placebo effect, but I only got better. At my three month check up, my Psychiatrist was thrilled. Everyone around me started telling me that they could see a difference, even if they didn't actually know why. Something that was bubbling under the surface that a lot of people didn't know was there was clearing up, and they could finally see me clearly again. I was able to do things I couldn't do before without feeling like I was going to throw up. It was amazing and terrifying at the same time.
Therapy was scary as well. You don't like to think of yourself as having problems, but having an outside perspective on your life really opens your eyes. I didn't realize how much of a wreck I was becoming, but also how much of a wreck I was allowing other people to make me. Taking the medication gave me the ability to finally think clearly about all of the challenges I faced, but therapy gave me the tools to deal with them. My therapist has talked me through problems with my family, with my anxiety, with my friends, with myself. Just having someone to talk to that wasn't capable of judging me on a personal level was a huge relief.
The medication continues, though I'm no longer getting better and better. I finally hit the ceiling, I told my therapist, and now I'm trying to figure out where my walls are. I still feel great, but I know I still have a ways to go to get where I want to be. My driving anxiety is better, but still not under control. Making a video of myself driving showed me that much. I thought I was getting a lot better, but watching myself out of my element changed everything. I'm still tense as heck and hurting all over. I didn't even realize it. My relationship with my parents is getting better. Having the patience to deal with them is really all the medication has given me. They've also eased up on me a bit, I think that they feel guilty about the level of denial they had about my problems before the incident at the wedding. My therapist has had a lot of suggestions for cohabitation with them, and some have been really good. It's much easier to be focusing on your mental health when you're not getting into knock-down drag-out screaming fights at the drop of a hat.
I cry much less than I used to. In January I cried at least once a day. I would lay in bed and cry at the thought of being alive for another second. I was simply overwhelmed at the very idea of having to exist. These days I don't cry at all, save for really emotional moments in video games.
It's not all great. The medication has had side effects, one of which is constant yawning. I am not at all tired, I'm getting all the sleep I could ever want, but I am yawning basically all the time. People are concerned that I'm not getting enough sleep or that I'm disinterested, but it's really the opposite. I'm reflexively yawning for no reason. There are some minor digestion issues, but nothing I couldn't live with. I just have to be more careful about what I'm eating and when I'm eating. And my sex drive has taken a nose dive, but I'm not sexually active with my partner so that isn't the worst thing ever. Something we'll have to be aware of in the future. Morgan is very understanding of it. I am more cuddly now, though.
Painting feels harder. My greatest fear in taking medication was that it would change my personality in a way that would effect my art. I don't know if it has or not, but I do feel less creative. Perhaps it is just a phase. I won't know for certain until I try to do more of it. Wish I had the inspiration, but I realized how much of my inspiration was actually based on pain, so that could have something to do with it. Still, hopeful for change.
The therapy can't fix everything either, I still have a lot of personal work to do with my anxiety. Still have to work on the self-deprecation and controlling my fear. But it doesn't feel unmanageable now. I feel like it's actually possible. Like someday, I could be fully together.
My Psychiatrist says the medication is just a band aid. That I may need to keep it on a while as my body learns to heal itself again, or that I could only need it a little while to aid in a small fracture of my consciousness. They won't really know until later. This could be a temporary thing that needed help, or a forever thing that I have to live with. I don't know yet.
But for the first time in what feels like over ten years, I feel like I am making a difference in my own life. And I finally feel like I'm living.