by Band Back Together | Nov 10, 2010 | Anxiety Disorders, Coping With Anxiety Disorders, Coping With Depression, Depressive Disorder, Generalized Anxiety Disorder Resources, Major Depressive Disorder, Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder |
I didn’t know if I wanted to write about this subject or not.
It’s a dark one.
One a lot of people don’t want to talk about. But I have been suffering with this for several months now and I need to talk. I need to get it all out.
You see, I am what they call “crazy.” I suffer from a wide range of issues. Social Anxiety Disorder, Generalized Anxiety, Severe Depression, Panic Disorder, PTSD, Agoraphobia, OCD. The list seems endless which makes me feel extra crazy. I also suffer from extreme pain in my feet, hands, knees and ankles. They doctors have no answers for that yet. I don’t know that they ever will. If blood tests can’t show it, I may never have answers. And my last issue is my stomach, I have awful pains in my stomach. My upper GI tract is where the pain is and the only answer they have is GERD but the medicines thus far aren’t helping. I always feel like I am about to throw up, I live in the bathroom and a lot of times I spend days and nights vomiting. It’s no fun. And now I have been afflicted with migraines and insomnia. I am sure the two walk hand-in-hand. I am not sure how much I can truly take. I want it all to end but I don’t know how. I have so much wrong with me. And so much people really don’t know, because I am afraid to talk about it or it’s to painful to talk about.
But my biggest problem is the medicines I’m taking. None of them seem to help. They only seem to make everything worse. And I just don’t know what to do. I know I need medicines. But what do you do when the medicine cause more problems than it solves?
I am afraid of being crazy forever. I am afraid I will end up in the loony bin. I am afraid I will snap and there will be no coming back. I am just afraid. The panic is the worst. I think the depression stems from the panic. And the pain and stomach issues cause more panic. So it’s a never-ending cycle.
But I have been doing some Google research and it seems Cymbalta, which I am on, can cause more harm than good in some people. And I started taking it because it had the least stomach side effects as well as sexual side effects. Well the sex thing is non-existent and is ruining my marriage. And my stomach obviously isn’t getting any better. So I just don’t know what to do. Do I stop the SNRI? Because all the others’ side effects are way worse.
Do I just focus on the Panic? What do I do? And for sleep what do I do? I haven’t slept in months it seems like. And I am losing my mind. I thought it was the anti-anxiety pills I was on, but I am now beginning to think that it’s the Cymbalta and it does not play well with others. I am at the end of my rope. I just don’t know what to do anymore.
I just want to feel normal again, and I am not even sure what normal is anymore.
by Band Back Together | Oct 20, 2010 | Coping With Depression, Major Depressive Disorder, Mental Health |
Depression lies, often telling us that we don’t need the medication that keeps us sane. Depression is a lying liar who lies.
This is her story:
I’ve been on and off anti-depressants for years. I first went on them when I was married to an abusive asshole. It’s not hard to imagine why I needed them. I probably needed treatment for PTSD back then, but it wasn’t as widely accepted as it is now. Maybe my therapist at the time didn’t know much about it or maybe she thought I didn’t have it. I don’t know. What I do know is that I have had my own issues with admitting I suffer from depression and admitting that I need brain altering drugs to deal with it.
Logically I know that there is some sort of chemical imbalance in my brain that causes me to enter The Dark Place.
Emotionally, I think I’m just fucked up and should be able to just pull myself out of The Sads when I get them. I feel like I’m admitting some sort of weakness by taking the drugs. There is absolutely no mistaking the difference I feel when I’m on them. Not only am I happier in general, but I’m a fuckton less bitchy. The most minute details won’t set me off when I’m on meds. When I’m not? Watch out. Look at me the wrong way at the wrong moment and I can’t promise that I won’t stab you. This makes living with me not so much fun sometimes.
Lately I’ve had a pretty good run off the meds; a couple of years this time. So good, in fact, that I fooled myself into believing that I was right all along. I didn’t need meds. I just needed to bully myself out of The Dark Place. It worked. Until it didn’t.
I’m in The Dark Place now. Way deep inside it. So far down the light above is just a pinhole. I’m struggling to claw my way back out. I need to make the appointment. I need to get back on the meds.
I need a kick in the ass. I need to realize it’s not a weakness to take the drugs.
The weakness is NOT taking the drugs.
by Band Back Together | Oct 19, 2010 | Addiction, Addiction Recovery, Alcohol Addiction, Baby Loss, Coping With Baby Loss, Coping With Depression, Grief, Help For Grief And Grieving, Loss, Major Depressive Disorder |
Three months after my third pregnancy loss, I started drinking.
In my mind, I’d done everything I was, as a faithful Mormon woman, “supposed” to do. I was married in the temple. I attended church regularly. I prayed, read my scriptures, paid my tithing…all the things I was taught would bring me true happiness.
I wasn’t happy.
Every time I heard “multiply and replenish the earth” I started crying. Nothing in my Mormon upbringing had prepared me to give birth to a dead baby. I was supposed to stop taking birth control, get pregnant and then have a baby. End of story. Nobody mentioned the awful things that might happen between point A and point C.
I was angry.
God told me to multiply and replenish the earth and I tried, dammit. What kind of messed up God tells someone to do something and then totally messes with them?
I was disconsolate. I was livid. I was miserable.
I had a plan.
I’d done everything I was “supposed” to do, but it obviously wasn’t working for me. Now I would do whatever I wanted, because really, it couldn’t possibly get worse.
So I went to a bar. I chose it carefully, because I had no idea what I’d be like or what might happen. I just knew there was the potential to feel better. I went to a bar where I knew the bouncer–we’d been on a few dates before I got married–and I felt like I could trust him to kind of watch over me.
Darin, if you ever read this…thank you. For more than I’m willing to discuss on a public forum.
I don’t remember what that first drink felt like, but it must’ve been decent, because it wasn’t my last.
I learned to drink.
I learned which drinks packed the most bang for my buck. I learned which ones made me gag but were totally worth it because once they were down they made me feel warm and fuzzy and like everything was okay in the world.
I didn’t drink every night, or even every weekend. Most of the time I was achingly sober, which gave drinking an allure that seemed not only difficult but pointless to resist. Why would I not do something that brought me a moment of respite?
I’ve had a lot of trite phrases thrown my way during this whole journey, and this is the one that always makes me laugh: “It’s not true happiness. When the glow wears off, you’ll be even more miserable.”
Bullshit.
At that point there was no such thing as more miserable, and if I could get 30…60…120 minutes where I didn’t think, I’d take it. Anyone who throws that phrase around has no idea what true depression feels like, and I’m happy for them. I’d prefer nobody feel that way.
So I drank. And I distanced myself from my husband, my family, my church. I still participated in all the things I had before, but it seemed empty. That was the one problem with alcohol–it wore off, and I certainly couldn’t spend every waking moment drunk. After all, that’s what alcoholics do, and I certainly wasn’t an alcoholic.
I couldn’t admit that I was drowning. I had to be strong, because that’s what you do when horrible things happen. You pull on your big girl panties and press forward. You don’t say that all your dreams and hopes for the future vanished overnight and now you feel like there’s nothing to live for.
That might make other people sad, and I was sad enough for everyone.
Luckily, I found a solution. I didn’t have to drink all the time, because there was something even better! It was cheaper, more accessible and, best of all, every bit as legal as alcohol.
by Band Back Together | Oct 11, 2010 | Coping With Depression, Major Depressive Disorder |
Living with depression is no small feat. Getting out of bed is hard – so hard- some days.
This is her story:
I am one of those people that has to make a decision everyday; I make the decision to keep trying. Keep trying to live. To improve. To get out of bed.
You may think I’m over-dramatizing, but as a person with chronic depression, a person without medical insurance, a person with a daughter who has special needs, a person without a job or an income, sometimes getting out of bed is a victory.
Sometimes I’m able to accomplish one or two things while I’m up, those are the good days.
Other days, once I’m out of bed, it’s a battle not to get immediately right back in. Sometimes, I start thinking about suicide. On those days, I have to remind myself of my decision to live. Sometimes, I have to tell myself to wait for tomorrow to decide anything. And when I do that, I know that I have to decide to live again tomorrow.
Some days are a little lighter. I can breathe and accomplish something and I might even be able to laugh. Those days give me a sense of hope. And sometimes that little dash of hope is all I need to sustain me through the darker times that lie ahead.
But, I know, as long as I keep making the decision to live – I will at least be here another day.
(ed note: keep on fighting the good fight. Much, much love to you, Prankster)
by Band Back Together | Oct 7, 2010 | Anxiety Disorders, Coping With Depression, How To Cope With A Suicide, How To Help With Low Self-Esteem, Major Depressive Disorder, Sadness, Self Loathing, Self-Esteem, Suicide |
I’ve battled depression since I was a teen. I didn’t know what it was until late into my twenties. I just felt as if something was wrong with me or like I was a bad person.
I’ve been on medication for the last year. It was working. Working really well. My mood had greatly improved. I was no longer hearing a baby cry random times of the day. My anxiety had lessened. But the last couple of months it’s stopped working. I thought I was just in a funk. It happens from time to time. When I’m in a funk, I feel down and I lose all interest in housework, my kids, my husband, and my life in general. The one thing that keeps me going is school. I love going to school. I love doing the homework. It gives me purpose.
I started to feel down this summer.
I don’t have any friends. People say “you must have some friends,” but the truth is: I haven’t had a friend in over 10 years. When I met my husband it was wonderful. He was my friend and that was all I needed. Truthfully, I think I need more friends. I need someone to connect with. Someone to talk to besides him. I hate this feeling of being alone. I know my anxiety keeps me from talking to people and I need to work on it.
I was in therapy the first seven months that I was taking my medication. My counselor thought I was doing wonderfully. I wanted to be doing wonderfully. But the truth is, I was still having anxiety. Anxiety about leaving the house. About meeting new people. About about being a good enough parent or spouse.
I’m back to the dark place. I’m having thoughts of suicide again. Sometimes, I think sometimes everyone would be better off without me. I’ll think of how easy it would be to wreck my car while I’m driving to school so everyone would just think it was an accident.
I know I need to change my meds again. I need to call and set an appointment up. But I have anxiety about that, too. I don’t want to admit I am a failure. That once again I am not okay. And I worry, what if they don’t believe me? What if I am just overreacting?
What if I get in to see the doctor and I don’t have enough courage to say what I’ve said here?
(ed note: why don’t you bring this post in with you if you’re afraid you can’t talk about it? Any doctor will take you seriously.
Much, much love. Please remember that suicide is never, ever the answer. The Dark Place is a place that many of us have been before. There is hope.
If you are seriously considering suicide, this is the phone number for the National Suicide Prevention Hotline:
1-800-273-8255
Please know that you are loved. And you are never alone.)
by Band Back Together | Sep 28, 2010 | Anger, Anxiety, Coping With Depression, Depression, Loneliness, Major Depressive Disorder, Mental Health, Stress |
Depression often lies to us, tricking us into going off our much-needed medications.
This is her story:
I wanted to see how I could be without the Prozac. So did my therapist. I had been on it for about 7 years – the same 20 mg dosage the whole time. My therapist openly disapproved of the medication. So I self-weaned off. I felt great for the first few weeks. Then the depression set in. It was mild at first. Just moodiness and more yelling. Then it would lift and life would be great. The cycles went like that for a while. Then there was The Week From Hell.
I ignored my husband completely. I did the bare-bones necessities to get through the day. I did not want to see friends or family. I didn’t want to do anything. I cried all the time, about nothing. I was never like this before. I wanted to eat salmon (which I am severally allergic to) so my throat would close and I would die. Nothing brought me joy. Nothing.
I didn’t talk about this with anyone. When I mentioned suicide to my therapist, he didn’t even blink or comment. This threw me into a greater depression. You know you are doomed when even your therapist doesn’t care.
My husband cried and said he wanted me to talk to him. I told him it didn’t help to talk. I needed medication. So I made an appointment with a psychiatrist (my previous Prozac came from my OB/GYN as medication to handle PMS). It took weeks to get in.
Even though I had been battling depression for years, this was the first time I ever saw a psychiatrist. She was very nice and knowledgeable. She went through all the background questions. When she asked about family history, I laughed and asked how much time we had. She nodded in understanding.
Her diagnosis was that I had mild depression that could go into a severe depressive state if I didn’t medicate myself. She said that since the Prozac did work for me without any side effects that she was putting me back on it, going from 10 mg up to 30 mg gradually.
Today I am at the 20 mg dosage. I feel pretty good. However, my darkest swings are 1-2 weeks before my period, which is still a while away. I am worried that the Prozac won’t be enough anymore. The psychiatrist said there are other similar medications I could take if Prozac didn’t do the job.
I am also worried that I am putting my trust too much into a pill. Why can’t I just be happy? I look at the people around me who smile and laugh and have it all, and want to be like them. But I am just not a happy person. Never have been, and probably never will be.
So I say, Hello Prozac my old friend…. I’ve come to take you again.
