People have commented on how much they like to read an honest post, so I have written another. It’s not designed to upset or conquer the world, it’s the reason I started blogging; to get my worries off my shoulders. This may disappear, I’m not 100% sure about posting it.
I had a terrible week the other week. One day I was as high as a kite; living in the moment, enjoying a glass of prosecco, full face of make up, laughing. Two days later I spent a whole day crying into my sleeves, unable to cope with myself and a toddler, “mummy crying”. Three days later I’m driving on the motorway wondering what will happen if I just shut my eyes and let go of the steering wheel. Shit got real. I don’t want have this as part of me, I just want to BE ME!
I’ve touched on a bit of anxiety and a bit of depression, I don’t like writing about it. It’s personal. I’m embarrassed, worried that it sounds worse than it is. I can hide it, it’s not that bad! But this time I was scared. My ups and downs are just that up and down then back up again, they come and then go, I have a settled period inner wren. Not this one. I knew I couldn’t fight this one myself, there was no up in sight, I could pretend to the face of others but even that wasn’t seeming to work “you look knackered/pale/run down!” “Your eyes are all…eyey!”.
I bit the bullet and requested a GP call back then went about my work day. After 4 phone calls from my GP in one afternoon I was called in for assessment. “Are you feeling suicidal?” You must be joking! I feel like this BECAUSE of a suicide! Maybe that’s not fair (you know how emotional you are when you have a baby? You know how emotional you get when you hit that 4 month sleep regression? You know how it feels to then deal with your little brothers escapism of suicide on top? Does your brain process any of it? Do you deal with any of it? (Rhetorical questions obviously)) I knew what they were going to say, I knew what I was going to say, I’m fine. But I knew I had to be honest this time – erase that pre-thought of speech, I knew I needed help. I was being silly, I didn’t want to be classed as “low mood” or have “depressive episode” on my notes. Two years is a long time to be battling yourself, stand up and fix yourself. So I was honest, hesitant about the mention of antidepressants and therapy.
Medication. This was difficult. I agreed to the prescription and stuffed it in my pocket as I left; had a massive debate with myself about actually cashing it in, hopefully I’d forget about it and wash it in the washing machine. What help is a pill? Is it just a placebo? Just chemical corrections? It feels too deep. A whole day spent thinking this through, then the same battle when I held my first tablet, poised ready to take. The relief when I took it, ‘here’s to nothing’ I remember thinking.
4 weeks on and glimmer of seeing myself is coming back. I’m not sure if it’s real or not! I had side effects of nausea and fatigue, in fact it’s made me even less of a morning person than before (didn’t think that was possible!), but I’m keeping my fingers crossed! I need to learn that there is such a thing as a bad mood, that it’s normal and it is not the beginning of a tumble. I’ve refused medication increases, whoa, slow down doc! Give it a chance! I’m not beating myself up about it, I gave it a shot and it wasn’t working.
I’m giving it a go. I want to be enjoying my life, doing things I want to do! I want to have the motivation to want to do things! Antidepressants are hopefully going to do that. If anyone else is toying with the idea of help, (‘I’ll do it next time’ was my favourite excuse) do it. Pick up the phone and be honest.
It’s a lot to deal with, you’ve got to give yourself a break, know when you can do things and when you can’t. Talk, write. Get help.