Depression: A Medicated Journey
I am sadness personified,
deep pools of chocolate
swirled deep with amber pain.
Turbulent chemicals misfired
within scarred grey matter,
genetic puppetmaster at work.
I watch my life in THX,
broken by environment,
betrayed by the gene pool.
Who is this doppleganger,
this moody bodysnatcher
maquerading as me?
I can fix this, repair this,
my palm sticky with remedy,
capsule melting in my hesitation.
Cringing as the mood swing dips,
my voice snaps at the innocent,
tears streaming over nothingness.
I cannot let her win,
this woman I’ve become,
a face I no longer recognize.
Fingers unfold from peace in a pill;
I swallow, a silent prayer to the gods,
that this is the key for my prison.
©August 26, 2004, CLRHuth
Ten years ago. That’s when I had my last real break. Hard to believe it’s been that long. Harder to believe I’ve managed to, well, manage my disease without help in a pill form for a decade.
I’m back on a pill now. We’re trying Effexor (generic) right now, once a day.
So as a follow up to my earlier articles (linked at the bottom), I wanted to give you five things to expect while we’re managing our disease.
1. Medication is not an instant fix.
It can take anywhere from 4–6 weeks for our bodies to process and use the medication that is filling in for the parts of our brain’s hardwiring that isn’t functioning. In that period of time, our state of mind can range from not functional to high functioning, sometimes in the same hour, sometimes not for days.
It’s been a month, and I am finally evening out the side effects. Still makes it hard for me to talk sometimes, like there’s a disconnect between my brain and mouth. I am a little out of it still, like the meds have slowed my thought process down enough that occasionally I don’t think at all. And some days I’m so crazy productive, my brain feels like a supercomputer on crack.
2. When it works, we feel normal. Ish.
That 4–6 weeks? It’s a best case scenario. Sometimes it takes longer to figure out how much, how often you need to take a medication. And in the interim, we feel like we’re actually going crazy.
Conversely, when we get the dose right, and we’re feeling great, we have the thought that we’re better, that we don’t need the med anymore. And while that is sometimes true for some people (hooray for them!), it is mostly not true for the rest of us.
That’s why we’re weaned off these meds and it is not recommended to come off them cold turkey. When we fall, we fall hard and it’s like all the depression we skipped being on the meds comes rushing back.
3. When it doesn’t, we feel, well, lots of things.
And sometimes nothing at all. The hardest part for me this time around was how numb I felt. Aside from the side effects, everything felt like it was on the other side of a blanket I could see through, like I could make out what it was, and I kind of remembered what it felt like, but it was cold, distant, just out of my reach.
Talk about frustrating.
On the other side of the coin, of course, was the overwhelming flood of feelings. Insta-crying when you don’t know what you’re crying about is insanely counterproductive. Crying should be healing, but when there isn’t a damn clue why you’re watching your favorite tv show and it’s not even a sad part, and you’re bawling like someone just killed your kid…yeah, not so much.
Insta-anger isn’t any fun either, and it’s exhausting to catch yourself when you feel the rage bubble over about something stupid, something trivial, so that you can prevent it from pouring all over someone who honestly did nothing to provoke you.
4. We Get Lost in Ourselves
I promise we’re not intentionally ignoring you, but sometimes the inner dialogue can become so loud that we lose ourselves in it. Some of us space out — eyes glazed, slightly opened mouth — and some of us just get up and walk away.
That’d be me. Just up and go in the middle of a conversation. And then realize what I’ve done and have to apologize again for doing it. I’m a terrible interrupter, too, because the thoughts in my head, if I don’t get them out, will cause me to stop.
Literally. (Minus the obvious unconscious body things, like breathing.)
So be patient. Remind us what we said. Help trigger the conversation, even if it wasn’t the one we were originally having. (Hell, steer it back to your topic…most times we’ll follow.)
5. We’re going to be okay.
We’re going to find our dosage, dosing time, and diet changes that we need to make it work. We’re going to be even again. Fun again. Could be days, could be weeks. Hell, I went pretty much ten years without breaking down again.
But we know how to save ourselves, for the most part, those of us who have been doing this for decades. It helps when we know you’re there to support us. So thank you in advance. :-)
Oh, and before I go, things you should never say to us*:
“Aren’t you better yet?”
“My [insert person you know] got over their depression without a pill.”
“Choose to be happy, and you won’t need the pill.”
“Exercise and diet are so much better for you than a pill.”
“God, I hate when you’re depressed. You’re so damn boring.”
“I like you better on your meds. When you’re not medicated, you’re a hot mess and no one wants to be around you.”
- These are all actual things people have said to me.
Things you can say:
“Are you taking your meds?”
“Hey, do you need help?”
“Hey, I’m just going to sit right here until you’re ready to…whatever.”
“I’m proud of you for getting help. That takes strength.”
Thank you for reading. I hope this helps you understand your depressed loved one better.
Other things I’ve written about Depression
Depression: Ten Things You Should Know
Depression: Ten Things That Help Us
Truth: Living With Depression
