To say this year has been exciting would be an understatement. It has been the best year ever, but it nearly was the worst year as well. The struggles my wife had in pregnancy didn’t end with delivery. She had to be rushed to the ER three times during the baby’s first week of life, had her gallbladder removed in October, and now has more issues in the abdomen region (none are life-threatening, but they are life-changing). We have to make sure we make healing together as a family a priority
Well, with the exception of a case of food poisoning (or a bad drug interaction), this year has been pretty good for me physically. My palindromic rheumatism has reared its head a few times, but while extremely painful, it is not debilitating. Except…
My mental health ran into a roadblock. I have suffered with depression and anxiety for a long time. I used to see a psychiatrist and was diagnosed with mild (later severe) depression and social anxiety disorder. Funny how the things I love require me to be social, yet they are so exhausting. The medicine I was prescribed, sertraline, agreed with me. I changed jobs (this was in 2003), and the co-pay for the medicine didn’t fit into my budget.
Since this is America, I quit taking it. I really didn’t need it for a long time. I had read the anxiety and phobia workbook and learned how to cope with it. The mental exercises I learned from that book and from my doctor served me well for about a decade (including Katrina).
Yet, this year proved too much for me. I became overwhelmed—not with the baby, but with everything else. Luckily, the Mrs. understood because I have always been upfront with her about my condition. She has been my rock mentally and emotionally, as I have been there for her physically. And the baby is both of our grace.
I don’t want to put all my fear, complexes, and doubts onto my daughter. She is very social and loves facing forward so she can see people. She loves looking at people at the park and will interact with anyone we introduce to her. She’s damn near perfect.
I’m not weak or crazy. I’m just not well. The important thing is I want to be well. I decided to see a physiatrist again. I’m sure I could have told my GP I had anxiety and depression (mine does ask every time). However, that’s not what he specializes in. I needed to make sure I wasn’t wrong in my self-assessment that I needed help. My new doctor immediately realized my anxiety had bested me.
Even at my worst, when I couldn’t smile, I made sure I didn’t lose the ability to make her smile. If that meant tickling her, pretending to eat her toes, or giving her raspberries, I worked to make her know I loved her.
I wrote a post similar to this on Facebook a few days ago. Instantly, I received lots of thoughts and prayers (don’t read sarcasm into that…I’m thankful). More importantly, a couple of people privately messaged me, saying that for the first time in a while, they didn’t feel alone. A few thanked me for fighting the stigma.
I’m beyond caring about the stigma. So, people know that I suffer from depression and anxiety now.
Now, they also know I’m doing something about it.
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Good for you. Shining a light on it is great step. In practical terms your GP can prescribe Cymbalta or its generic equivalent. My doc gave it to me as pain management drug for my hip and back. I never really thought much about depression, but within in two weeks it cleared out what I call my brain mud. That’s really what it was designed to do. Could help you as well.
I call it a cloud. I've had too many cloudy days. Zoloft has been working and I'm at partially cloudy days.
Good. Whatever works. Don’t hesitate to talk. Here, or with your friends in real life.
Thanks, my friend. This means a lot.
I could never truly admit it , I’d rather hide and make everyone think I was great . My smiles and putting myself out in public and being joyful , simply was never actually what was going on with me inside ! I can’t tell you the number of times I have worked a night shift and driven over a hour home and cried the whole way. By the time I’d reach home, I would be mentally drained. Only I knew I did this almost daily .
I still get overwhelmed, however I have been on medication for a very very long time , yet I still find myself curled up in the bathroom by myself , door locked crying my eyes out and staring at the wall until I can walk back out and face reality again!
I’ve lived this way for as long as I can remember . But I have never let anyone know my struggles . I am not alone , and neither are you . Thank you ☺️