For years I have denied needing to use anti-depressants because I figured I was “handling” the depression which I have been experiencing for almost a decade. I saw friends turn into zombies because of their meds, and I didn’t want that. I have always explained that while I may feel sad most of the time, at least I am feeling something.This fall will mark 10 years of being diagnosed with clinical depression. Maybe it's time.
However, I have been very low-functioning and unmotivated recently that it is impairing my ability to get to class and get out of bed. My counselor and my mom urged me to book a doctor’s appointment to discuss meds.
I had that appointment this morning. Dr. Roy agreed that since I first experienced depression when I was 13, it is a chemical imbalance rather than environmental, so a serotonin producer like Cipralex should help me get to a base level where I can start to deal with my issues better.
It was a hard appointment, and a very scary step to take. I cried a lot, and I’m terrified about what this might do to me. However, Dr. Roy said that if I take it continuously for 8 months, there is only a 17% chance of relapse. That could mean that I could safely take care of children and could be more supportive of Nic.
Honestly, that’s the reason I gave in to medications. I want to be able to support myself, my partner, and the children we hope to have. Right now there is no way I could do any of that.
Friday, March 28, 2014
Yesterday I posted this on my Tumblr. I questioned myself about why I wanted to post it. I'm not looking for more support (though I do really appreciate the messages I have already received from friends and strangers) or attention. I want to share my story to think through the process of taking anti-depressants, helping to de-stigmatize mental illness, and hopefully inspire someone else to get help.