It’s been one of those weeks

Today, I do not feel like writing in the blog. I did not feel like getting out of bed. I have felt like doing nothing all day long. This is not a unique day for me that I “just need to rest a little”. This is something that happens almost daily for me when my depression is in full swing. Thankfully, that’s not really what this was, but it was a small taste.

Depression has been a recurring part of my life for much of my life. It really got stuck in my brain during puberty. I was not a popular person; I was not unpopular either. I had friends, but they didn’t stick around a lot. I wasn’t invited to parties much. I did have one really dedicated friend until we found boys, then we stopped hanging out as much.

Boys were another beast altogether. Hormones raging, a teenage girl thinks that every by loves her if he looks her way. We hadn’t learned yet that boys are generally jerks until they are done with puberty. But, we blindly followed them into the abyss of teenage angst, first kisses, and riding in cars.

I would say that some of my depression taking hold harder was actually because of boys. My last high school boyfriend was fairly emotionally abusive. That put some wonderfully evil self-esteem breakers into my internal vocabulary. My first few dates in college were with a sex crazed jerk, which just reinforced the bad phrases cycling because of that bad boyfriend. Then, I had a few years of great guys that came and went. They weren’t ready to take on that emerging mental illness and what it entailed. I was engaged and it ended badly. I hit a downward slope. I dated some strange ones too. My depression got out of control.

At one point in college, I decided I needed some counseling and to see a psychiatrist. I had been cut from the ROTC, which was my only career plan. I was continually exploding at my then-boyfriend. I decided to quit rugby, which was my second love. I cried randomly; I hid in my room for days on end; I “forgot” to shower, brush my teeth, or eat. I recognized that this wasn’t normal activity, but I wasn’t sure what was wrong. So, I went to the school clinic and got on the list. The counselor was not great. I don’t even remember his name. I met with him twice. The doctor was just as subpar, I met with him twice as well 3 months apart. He prescribed Lexapro the first time, the second time he told me that I was probably past the worst of my disorder and that he didn’t recommend going off of the medication. I did anyway because I felt that I had a handle on my depression. I was mostly right.

You see, when someone is put onto an SSRI (Selective Serotonin Reuptake Inhibitor), it is recommended that they stay on it for at least a year to prevent relapse. Doctors are adamant in their recommendation of staying on the medication. I had felt that this depression was more connected to my situation than something long term. I thought all I needed was a quick jolt of happy and my life would go back to good. I was mostly right.

I dealt really well for another year. I changed schools, picked a different major, lost some weight, joined a church, got engaged, found an apartment, made some friends. Then, stress came and I did well. I thought I really had outwitted that doctor until a big tidal wave hit.

My fiance split up with me in April of that following year. I was devastated and shocked. So shocked that my sister (who was visiting that weekend) said that I didn’t seem like I even cared when I told her. I went through the motions until a month later when school was out for the summer; I moved back to my parents’ place; I grieved my future plans again. I spent most of that summer in a near fog. I worked as much as I could at the local group home company. Once late in the summer, one of my high school friends tried to set me up with his roommate and it was a horrible disaster. I was not sad, but I was not happy either. I was numb.

When I went back to the town of my school, I spent the first month being sad and lonely. I didn’t hang out with my friends; I didn’t have classes yet to distract me. I wallowed in my apartment eating pizza, drinking beer, and reading. Once school started, I was lucky enough that my friends didn’t let me wallow and I started to turn that corner again. I also had a great Bible study group that helped me learn some coping skills for my depression. The depression started to subside and I got back to my life.

 

 

If you check back in tomorrow, you can hear the rest of this story. See you on the road!

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