I’ve diligently tried to avoid anti-depressants. I’ve always heard things about them like “they make me feel like a zombie…” “I don’t feel anything while on them…” and I’ve always felt as if by taking them, somehow I would be gypping myself of life experience. That sadness was a part of life, that it made the good times brighter and that it was simply something I had to deal with.
When I went to the doctor to be put on anti-anxiety pills, I started small. I’ve avoided heavy drugs – opting to start on a beta blocker and eventually forego that for a prescription of Buspirone – which I ended up having the dosage upped.
Finally though, I’ve given up the fight against living with un-medicated depression. One day, I sat outside as the sun shone against a clear, blue sky. I watched birds fly from rooftop to rooftop. I burst into tears. The sadness was more than I could handle. The day was perfectly fine and yet, I was so fucking sad.
It was past sad, really. So deep was I into the depression that crept up on me that I felt absolutely nothing at all. I was numb. The day was gorgeous but it felt gray. Everything felt gray, devoid of joy and colorless.
That is no way to live. No way to feel. I have only so much time with my little Punk, before she grows up and I don’t want to waste the rest of it struggling.
I called and made an appointment to go meet with my doctor and get a prescription for anti-depressants. I don’t want to do this on my own, anymore. It is exhausting. I need the help. I need the medication to right my moods, to buoy me, to help me deal with this so that I can be the person I want to be. I’m tired of not recognizing myself. Of not being happy.
So, my journey with medication advances on the 26th. I am eager to see what the pills do for my moods – if they help keep me from that bottomless pit of awful, if they make those moments easier to deal with…