Life with 'zac
I've been meaning to write about this for a while, now... Maybe it'll help me sort my thoughts, maybe someone might find it informative... I dunno.
I'm stalling.
Of course, writing that is just a conceit... Obviously, in this modern age I can go back and edit out, re-write, or delete anything, and you would never know. I'm not using a freaking quill and inkwell...
Still stalling.
I've been struggling with depression for a while. Maybe struggling is the wrong word; that implies some sort of resistance on my part. Enduring or wallowing might be a better description.
Therapy has helped some... If nothing else it has helped me sort through a few issues here and there, and revealed to me a few coping mechanisms. But I was still depressed.
So with my therapists concurrence, I went to see a psychiatrist who could prescribe medication. I wasn't too impressed by the clinic I went to. Somehow, I thought the screening process to get meds would be more than 20 minutes....
Anyway, the doctor put me on prozac, because while it is an older drug, it is well understood. So I got my prescription from Wal mart (which makes me feel unclean, but $4 prescriptions can't be beat) and got my pills. And I took them and waited. And waited.
One of the things that sucks about this is you get to experience all the side effects of the medication before getting any of the benefits. So for a couple of weeks I not only was depressed, but feeling physically crappy.
Then one day, it hit me. I hadn't had any negative thoughts in a few days. I not only beat myself up at the time I do stupid things, but for stupid things I did the day before, the year before, and even the decade before. And the thoughts and feelings will run round and round in my head, like a rabid dog chasing his tail. This happens especiually when I'm doing something fairly mindless, such as testing circuit boards, or driving. When I told my mother this, she laughed and apologized. She said of all the traits she could have passed on to me, she wished she hadn't given me that one. Interesting how some things run in the family, even if you don't know it.
Anyway, I hadn't been beating myself up. And that was very satisfying. Prozac (for me at least), didn't make me feel good, but I stopped constantly critisizing myself. It's as if a loud annoying buzzing had suddenly stopped. The silence isn't beautiful music, but it is far better than what you had been experiencing.
This was a very good thing. People at work commented that I seemed to be in good spirits. Heck, people I talked to on the phone said the same thing. I started -doing- stuff. Editing photos, cleaning, writing, etc. I started on the disaster of an apartment I was living in. Where before I would just lie in bed and think how worthless I was because I had a pile of dirty clothes on the floor, I now realized that I could do something about that, and then would take action to fix the problem.
Then it stopped. Or rather, it started again, my own personal Greek chorus of shame and regret. I almost felt like Charlie in "Flowers for Algernon" when he realized that his intelligence was slipping away, and there was nothing he could do.
So back to the psychiatrist I go. He doubles my Prozac dosage, and says we're going to try it at this level for two months. I'm about a month into it now, and the results are mixed. I thought I was at the break through point last week, but I seemed to have stalled. I feel as if I'm in a car that is struggling to climb a hill; I'm almost over the top, but stuck grinding my wheels 10 feet below the peak. I'm still getting unbidden negative thoughts, but at least I'm not getting into a cycle of self recrimination and regret. I have no will to do anything constructive around the house, but I've managed to actually do a little cooking. People at work are asking me what's wrong, and I lie and tell them everythign is fine. What else can I say? I know... I know... I could just be honest, but I don't like opening myself up to others that I don't know (extremely) well...
So now I'm still waiting.
I'm stalling.
Of course, writing that is just a conceit... Obviously, in this modern age I can go back and edit out, re-write, or delete anything, and you would never know. I'm not using a freaking quill and inkwell...
Still stalling.
I've been struggling with depression for a while. Maybe struggling is the wrong word; that implies some sort of resistance on my part. Enduring or wallowing might be a better description.
Therapy has helped some... If nothing else it has helped me sort through a few issues here and there, and revealed to me a few coping mechanisms. But I was still depressed.
So with my therapists concurrence, I went to see a psychiatrist who could prescribe medication. I wasn't too impressed by the clinic I went to. Somehow, I thought the screening process to get meds would be more than 20 minutes....
Anyway, the doctor put me on prozac, because while it is an older drug, it is well understood. So I got my prescription from Wal mart (which makes me feel unclean, but $4 prescriptions can't be beat) and got my pills. And I took them and waited. And waited.
One of the things that sucks about this is you get to experience all the side effects of the medication before getting any of the benefits. So for a couple of weeks I not only was depressed, but feeling physically crappy.
Then one day, it hit me. I hadn't had any negative thoughts in a few days. I not only beat myself up at the time I do stupid things, but for stupid things I did the day before, the year before, and even the decade before. And the thoughts and feelings will run round and round in my head, like a rabid dog chasing his tail. This happens especiually when I'm doing something fairly mindless, such as testing circuit boards, or driving. When I told my mother this, she laughed and apologized. She said of all the traits she could have passed on to me, she wished she hadn't given me that one. Interesting how some things run in the family, even if you don't know it.
Anyway, I hadn't been beating myself up. And that was very satisfying. Prozac (for me at least), didn't make me feel good, but I stopped constantly critisizing myself. It's as if a loud annoying buzzing had suddenly stopped. The silence isn't beautiful music, but it is far better than what you had been experiencing.
This was a very good thing. People at work commented that I seemed to be in good spirits. Heck, people I talked to on the phone said the same thing. I started -doing- stuff. Editing photos, cleaning, writing, etc. I started on the disaster of an apartment I was living in. Where before I would just lie in bed and think how worthless I was because I had a pile of dirty clothes on the floor, I now realized that I could do something about that, and then would take action to fix the problem.
Then it stopped. Or rather, it started again, my own personal Greek chorus of shame and regret. I almost felt like Charlie in "Flowers for Algernon" when he realized that his intelligence was slipping away, and there was nothing he could do.
So back to the psychiatrist I go. He doubles my Prozac dosage, and says we're going to try it at this level for two months. I'm about a month into it now, and the results are mixed. I thought I was at the break through point last week, but I seemed to have stalled. I feel as if I'm in a car that is struggling to climb a hill; I'm almost over the top, but stuck grinding my wheels 10 feet below the peak. I'm still getting unbidden negative thoughts, but at least I'm not getting into a cycle of self recrimination and regret. I have no will to do anything constructive around the house, but I've managed to actually do a little cooking. People at work are asking me what's wrong, and I lie and tell them everythign is fine. What else can I say? I know... I know... I could just be honest, but I don't like opening myself up to others that I don't know (extremely) well...
So now I'm still waiting.