...plus I got depression.

[side_show]

Folks, I've got hella depression.  Probably worse than ever before in my life.  I had the SO take me to the hospital on Friday as I'd completely fallen apart.  We were there from 6:30 pm - 12:30 am.  These are bad times for me.  There's no major inciting incident here, just the weight of my bullshit family situation and my lack of ability to cope with it.  The stark contrast between my successful life and my damaged core is the demon I'm wrestling with.  I'm currently awaiting my referral to a psychiatrist.  I'm terrified to confront the backlog of pain, but hopeful for healing.  I am pretty adverse to taking medications, am worried about them changing me, dulling me, etc.  On the flip side, I'm pretty sure that I don't care anymore.  I'm not really coping and am actually scared for myself, so I suppose if being doped-up is my only shot at survival I'll take it over not surviving.

Anyone else here in therapy and/or on antidepressants?  Any suggestions?

[wombat]

Posting this is probably a copyright violation, but the hell with it.


Coping Outside the Box
Antidepressants Don't Kill The Pain, but They Can Be a Huge Relief

By Laura Zigman
Special to The Washington Post
Tuesday, July 10, 2007; Page HE01

Everyone has a moment in time that divides his or her life into "before" and "after." For me that moment was 10 years ago, when I was 34. I had just left New York and moved to Washington -- trading my soul-deadening career and size-0 studio apartment for a 9-to-5 job and a big one-bedroom overlooking Rock Creek Park and the zoo, trading my no-life life for an actual life, not to put too fine a point on it, and feeling really good about it -- when depression struck. Again. The way it had repeatedly since second grade.

It was then that I finally realized that I would never be able to outrun myself; wherever I went, wherever I moved, however stealthily I tried to sneak away, I would always bring myself with me. And at the thought of that -- at the thought of a life sentence with chronic clinical depression as my cellmate and no chance of parole -- I finally knew the jig was up.

Uncle, I cried at long last. Give me the meds.

Describing what depression feels like is a little like trying to describe what chocolate tastes like or what classical music sounds like or what red looks like. But for me, being depressed was like being inside a sealed glass box right in the middle of a big huge party: I could see out and people could see in, but that's about as far as it went.

For most of my life I knew what I was missing out on -- everything -- and even though much of the time I was too depressed to care, every once in a while my heart would leap like a normal person's and I would grasp, in the flash of an instant, that my life was passing me by. Those times my spirit would float up to the ceiling and look down at myself pushing against the glass walls of my box like a frantic mime. But, like every other trapped mime in the history of the world, I could never find my way out.

Caving in after a lifetime of refusing to "take the easy way out" was difficult. I had always been against medication in the treatment of depression -- for myself, not for others. My father had been depressed most of my life, and the Valium he'd taken during my childhood only seemed to make things worse. Even though I knew as an adult that it was stupid to prescribe a depressant to a depressive and that the newer generation of antidepressant drugs was much more effective, giving in to them still seemed somehow like cheating.

After I'd gotten past the initial wave of feeling like a failure -- a failure at traditional psychotherapy, a failure at coping, a failure at life (take your pick!) -- I had other concerns. This was the mid-1990s, and every other week a big article or a big book about antidepressants appeared, reporting on the various side effects of psycho-pharmaceuticals. Given my luck -- which is to say, given my propensity for bad luck, like being born with a ridiculously disproportionate amount of negativity -- I assumed that I would get none of the drugs' positive effects and all of their bad side effects. But even if they just worked a little, maybe the frantic mime inside me would stop pounding pathetically on the glass and start feeling around for an exit door.

Once I'd started taking the drugs, the mime inside me did more than that: It not only found the door and opened it -- it also ditched the white face and black jazz shoes on the way out. Within days, a lifetime of television-screen static and indecision and muteness lifted and was replaced by a focused clarity. Within weeks a new mental energy and ability to concentrate for long periods appeared. Before I knew it, I was able to whip through a week's to-do list in a single morning, make decisions without agonizing analysis-paralysis, and project myself into the future. My sock drawer and closets were organized, and my big black bag weighed half as much, now that several pounds of ATM receipts, shoes and loose tobacco had been removed. And I even finished rewriting the novel I'd been working on for five years.

And that was only after the first three refills.

Like any relationship, my partnership with medication these past 10 years has had its ups and downs. I've tried a few drugs that worked and a few drugs that didn't; I've gone off them a few times and suffered such severe withdrawal symptoms I feel I have some understanding of heroin addiction; and I've gone back on them every time because for me there is no question that I am happier -- or less unhappy, depending on whether I'm in a half-full or half-empty kind of mood -- when I am on medication.

And despite the life-altering effect they've had on me, I accept that antidepressants can go only so far: I still hate going to parties, I still feel fat most of my waking hours, and I still worry that one day the sadness will come back and I won't be able to get out of bed. Just like going through childbirth with an epidural or dental surgery with a local anesthetic, there is still plenty of pain left over even with the drugs.

Which is a good thing. I still like to go back and visit my glass box once in a while, to remember what it used to be like.

Or maybe that's just the medication talking. ·

Laura Zigman is the author of "Animal Husbandry" and "Piece of Work." Comments:health@washpost.com.

[Arachno-capitalist]

Anti-depressants saved my life. I suggest checking out crazymeds.org for the full scoop.

Also: Prozac Nation by Elizabeth Wurtzel will assure you you're not alone.

[jay-ell]

Never done it, but I've had family members who have, and kudos to you for getting help. 

It's a hard choice, but it sounds like at least at this point for you it's better than the alternative. 

Godspeed.  I think I speak for everyone when I say we're all here for you. 

Then again, we're imaginary anyway, so where are we going to go? 

[Asherdan]

Here's an imaginary internet hug.

[CortJstr]

Avoid Elavil. It's side effects are being an addictive sleeping pill and large weight gain, especially in the first 2 months.

[side_show]

This is all very good stuff.  Please keep it coming. 

I have moved from "maybe I'll go back to bed" to "fuck this, I'm ordering sushi for lunch!" 

[theinevitable]

I hope that the psychiatrist can help you. It is as simple as that.

Um, as a psych student all I can say is that psychopharmacology has come a long way from the old days when meds were such as trying to break open a small oyster with a sledgehammer. Now they have all kinds of precision things which I don't understand. All I have gleaned from my reading on the subject is not to give up if the first thing you try doesn't work-- or if it works at first and then stops working. The way these things effect your body is really different depending on your metabolism and such.

I know it doesn't help any, but I think you are really great. You are utterly rad, even though my friends refuse to believe that I know an awesome Winnipegian playwright.

[Nabubrush]

I['m in therapy, and I'd recommend it for basically everyone. Of course, I'm pretty seriously scrambled, but there you are. I've never actually been prescribed anything, but I've obviously self-medicated to varying degrees of success. I'd think having a doctor involved would probably up the chances of things working out correctly.

Also, I dig you. So you've got that, for whatever it's worth.

[linnea]

Anti-depressants saved my life. I suggest checking out crazymeds.org for the full scoop.

Also: Prozac Nation by Elizabeth Wurtzel will assure you you're not alone.

Damn, A-CAP. Just when I think you and I have zero in common, you bust something out that's can-worthy.

I had severe problems with depression back in the day, and Jerod over at Crazymeds.org is the best. My particular combo was prozac, lamictal, and seroquel because I was jumping out of my skin and couldn't sleep. However, it took the doctors a while to figure out the right combination. After I stabilized, I felt so much better and I was able to actually do stuff instead of being paralyzed by anhedonia or sobbing myself into another panic attack.

Even if you "just" have unipolar depression, get a mood chart and fill it in every day. Make sure you keep detailed notes on side effects if they are bothering you. If a med isn't working, tell your doctor, and if you're having REALLY bad side effects then tell them you have to stop that med. Also see a real psychiatrist and not just a family practitioner. I tried taking a ridiculous cocktail of meds that were prescribed first by my family doctor, and then by this nurse practitioner who was also a psychologist, and I think that's what made my Problems so fuck*ng exacerbated. If you have really bad side effects, like when I was taking Wellbutrin and blacked out at the wheel, and the fuck*ng PA told me to keep taking the meds? Yeah, fuck you.

They rotated me through a metric shit ton of medication. Just hang in there until they find the right combination. I was given: Wellbutrin, Zoloft, Paxil, Klonopin, Serzone, and some others that I can't even remember.

Also...if you ever need to talk I am totally here for you. We love you, smells, and we want you to feel better.

[side_show]

Holy hell, that is a lot of med's to go through.  You must be tough as nails to have gone through all that.  It kind of makes me teeter a bit, because I can't imagine myself, in the state I'm in now, having the strength to work through all that.

I am absolutely going through a psychiatrist for treatment.  Our family doctor perscibed a lot of random psych med's to both my mom and dad without ever pushing them to get the help they so clearly need, or intervening when it should have been clear that I was dealing with some out of controle situations no kid should be faced with, so he's absolutely not welcome to get involved in my situation now.  I've got major issues with learned behaviors and having grown up with no example of how to be happy or how to function in a healthy relationship.  I really, really need to learn to recognize healthy vs unhealthy behavior patterns... all this shit a smarty ##### like me should know already.  I've got all the shit I wanted for a healthy, happy life, and no fuckin' idea what to do with it now that I've got it, hence my meltdown.

Wombat - that article is the main reason why I'm not in bed, in a puddle of tears, so thanks for that.

Nabu - did you have trouble finding a good therapist, or was it a hit with the first person you saw?  I'm really worried about opening up to someone, then finding they're a total ass and having to start all over again.

A-CAP - calling the med's a temporary aide gives me a lot of hope.  I'm specifically hoping to see a psychiatrist seen by a friend of mine who has recently been taken off her med's.  I have positive feelings about a therapist who doesn't believe require life-long medication if it's not deemed necessary.  Also I'm glad your guinea pig is helping you.  My cats have totally ignored me, which is a surprise because usually they're really clingy when I'm down or ill.

[Nabubrush]

It was pretty easy for me to find a therapist, but that was probably because I was looking for someone who dealt with imago therapy, so I knew going in that they were going to be structured toward and working on the specific things I wanted to focus on.

[wombat]

Wombat - that article is the main reason why I'm not in bed, in a puddle of tears, so thanks for that.

I am glad to hear it.  And thanks for letting me know, as I am having a moderately craptacular time myself lately and it is nice to feel I have accomplished something or helped someone in some small way.

I sent that article to a friend of mine who was considering going on meds. Her therapist decided that I was a good friend because I'd sent her an article that was NOT anti-medication. I guess that means that that's a common reaction, so I am glad you're getting all this support.  Even if it is from imaginary people.

From my second-hand experience it may take a few tries to find a therapist who's right for you, so don't get discouraged.

[Asherdan]

...I've got all the shit I wanted for a healthy, happy life, and no fuckin' idea what to do with it now that I've got it, hence my meltdown....

I know that feeling. Managing life from a place of success and happiness can be a challenge if you're not set for peace as well as war. Seems like you have a handle on maybe what's digging at you, that's a good spot to kick off some structured conversations.

Ray of light time: you want the tools to be happy and you're going to woodshop to learn how to use them. Good wishes for good things.

I'll take a fuck*ng imaginary bird house, thanks.

[AugustWest]

Best wishes to you Smells.  I've been there, done that and know how bad it hurts.  In each of my three bouts with the big D, medication has helped.  If it doesn't help or if it "dulls" you, you can always quit and try something else. 

Not a big surprise that there are quite a few Beefs around these parts.  Know that you have a quite a few imaginary internet friends out here sympathizing and pulling for you.