Depression is that horrible girl from grade 10, who would push by you in the corridor and flare her nostrils like she had just smelled something gross, and then turn to her friends, self-doubt and shame, and giggle. Gawd, the fantasies I had of helping that girl find her just desserts... usually involving a bad haircut and zits, but always ending with her bawling her eyes out in the corner of a dark room.
So obviously I've had a bad day, brought on by money woes, and a crapped-out septic system (that would be funny if it wasn't true...) I did a lot of crying today. More than most days, anyhow.
About 7 years ago I tried going on anti-depressants to stop the crying, and it worked- I stopped crying completely. It worked so well, in fact, I couldn't even cry even when crying was called for. Which, at first, was well worth it.
It was a very low dose of celexa, I think, and I didn't notice any side effects at first. But after I'd been on it long enough to appreciate that it was working, I had the worst side effect of all- my very first panic attack. If you've ever had one, you know that that saying "the only the thing we have to fear is fear itself" is so fucking true... the kind of truth that blows up reality when it hits you. The catalyst was a little bit of nausea, probably from taking a pill on an empty stomach, that escalated into tingling in my arms and my heart racing. I spent the rest of the day in bed, alternating between talking my self off the cliff and crying. It passed, but the memory never has. And its happened to a lesser intensity a handful of times since. Now that I know what is happening when it happens, I know I'm not really going to die, which is good, but at the same time at the beginning of one I am acutely aware of how bad its going to be and knowing that somehow makes it worse- it certainly makes it more unlikely that I can avoid it.
Eventually I went off that medication, and while the depression didn't (immediately) come back, the anxiety never left. I believe, (and I have no scientific proof- its just a gut feeling) that my 'happy' pills permanently messed with my head. Or maybe it just uncovered something that was already there: if I look at my childhood, there were signs that I was a .... sensitive kid, for lack of a better word. Not only did I gain a new mental problem after being medicated, I also realized I hadn't actually made any changes during that time. My life was no better, no worse. My self esteem was still pretty crappy, and I hadn't made any changes to my health or financial future. I hadn't really had any motivation to do anything but what needed to be done. Which was better then when all I could do was cry, but didn't help me to stop the depression from coming back, because honestly, some part of depression has to be circumstantial- even if the cause is the stress from your circumstances.
So anyway, that's why I've decided that I'm not going to go back on antidepressants unless I'm absolutely rock bottom. Unless I really can't cope at all. And I'm still coping, if somewhat clumsily. Today I coped by listening to some Regina Spektor and making a sea urchin kusudama. And yesterday I made an origami chibi dragon - 2, because the first time didn't look right, pictured above.
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