Twelve years ago I was diagnosed with depression. Immediately the doctor put me on zoloft. I don't remember many of the side effects, aside from insomnia. I rode the meds out for six months before the refills ran out and we just never went back again. I was never cured. And when I got off the pills, it just got progressively worse over the twelve years that followed. Not only that, but the OCD that had been a mere cameo in my life, went from guest star to featured regular in the daily show that is Jia.
In between then and now I've had a plethora of poorly educated / prejudiced / pill pimping / vegan hippie doctors that haven't helped with much or agreed on anything other than the fact that I was clearly over weight and that's probably the root cause of everything that's ever been wrong with me ever ever ever. Ever.
Between my distrust of doctors there's also been my distrust of medicine in the way of me getting healthy again. Birth control pills taken when I was fifteen destroyed my hormone balance and could very well be the core reason that I am presently infertile. Pills given to me by a doctor who hadn't yet confirmed a disorder I "more than likely" had left me bed ridden for an entire month.
It's taken over two years of fiercely battling depression, OCD and anxiety for my family to convince me that medication may be needed. I learned to fight back against my anxiety, and I've grown closer to surviving OCD. But depression is something that you can't fix by will alone. Ah, hell you can't fix OCD or anxiety with will alone either, but I never said I was fixed.
After three weeks of therapy and a visit to a balanced doctor (who insists on being involved in my recovery), I am back on antidepressants. I've seen many friends go through the same ordeals and I've admired their strength. If it wasn't for them, who knows if I'd be okay with being on meds right now.
I'm back on zoloft.
New side effects have risen to the surface. I'm not cool with the hot flashes, but to be fair, at least my air conditioner works now. Another side effect that came out with a bang yesterday is the restlessness. Not being able to sit still. Always moving, shaking, or needing to talk - and usually with a great amount of speed in my speech. And then I remember that I had this side effect last time too. It eventually wears off as the medication kicks in and starts fixing what's been improperly wired in my brain.
Last night though . . . the insomnia returned. I'd forgotten what it felt like. To be so physically exhausted but completely unable to rest, relax and eventually doze off. And I like sleep. A lot. Most people with depression are really good at sleep.
Once an hour I'd turn and look at the clock. Sometimes I'd fall asleep for maybe ten minutes at a time, but I'd wake up with jaw pain and a headache. Apparently, I was clenching my teeth during those "peaceful" ten minutes of rest. Eventually the combination of complete exhaustion, ear plugs (and a healthy dose of Metallica behind that to help drown out the sounds of my neighbors alarm clock that continued ringing for over twenty minutes) - plus the loving hands of a good husband rubbing my head, neck and shoulders . . . and I finally slept for more than ten minutes. It didn't last long, but it was enough. For now.
I'm okay. I can ride this out. Because I know that there's a light at the end of the tunnel.
And I'm really, really tired of living in the dark.
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