Welcome to the second installment of the series talking about anxiety and depression. If you want to follow along from the start please check out the first post here: http://artfullyatheist.com/2017/08/02/anxiety-and-depression-part-1/
There are a great deal of people who go through anxiety and/or depression. My story is just one of many perspectives and I want to share others stories. Names will be kept anonymous and the material may be difficult or troubling for those with depression and/or suicidal thoughts.
A- I never thought I'd be dealing with depression in my life. Let alone at the age of 19. But after my mother passed unexpectedly from a heart attack the day before Thanksgiving, my monsters made their appearance.
For me, it slowly crept on. Of course, I was extremely upset about losing my mom, we didn't have a perfect relationship but since I started college things were getting a lot better. The last time we spoke we talked about going Black Friday shopping at midnight; I hated the idea but my mom talked me into it. "It will be fun!" I remember her saying. I never got to see her again. When I finally arrived home from college, she had already passed. It started with regret, regret that I wasn't a better daughter; regret that I didn't leave for Thanksgiving break the day before like I said I would; regret that I didn't tell her I loved her more.
Those little thoughts stick with you and they slowly build. I started questioning my life, my health, my happiness. Was I taking care of my health? (My father also suffers from heart attacks) Was I in the right major? Was I even happy? My grades started falling (why did I even care about college to begin with?). I cried a lot, I mean A LOT. Then the panic attacks started. I literally felt like I was dying and that my heart was going to beat out of my chest. It didn't help that I kept thinking I was having a heart attack each time it happened.
I sought help at the campus psychiatric services. The first therapist I talked with did not help. I'm atheist and have been for years; when I expressed how it hurt to know that my mother was dead and I wouldn't see her again, her response was "Well, have you thought about becoming religious?" Umm no, I'm not going to change who I am just to make myself feel better. It's as if telling someone who is homosexual that they should try to be straight... but that's a whole other topic! Luckily, I found a better therapist outside of campus who did help.
Medication, everyone has got their two cents about it. I started taking Pristiq when I was 20. I started on 10mg and worked my way up to 20mg. Now depression/anxiety medication doesn't work immediately. It wasn't until I was on it for a few months did I look back and realize how much I changed. Panic attacks were less frequent, crying spells still happened but they didn't last all day, I could care again.
Medication and therapy are the same in the sense that if the first one doesn't work out, that doesn't mean you're a failure or you won't find a way to make it work. I've seen multiple therapists over the years, some have been great and some not so much. I switched depression medication with guidance from my doctor because of some dizziness symptoms I was experiencing with Pristiq. It sucked. Not only did it not work but the medication made my depression symptoms worse. I was never suicidal before I started medications, this new stuff made me the worst version of myself. It had power over me, it made me believe lies, it made me see everything in a fog. My dad was a big help during this time, I remember him saying it was the meds but I kept telling him "No this is me, this is how I've always been. The meds have just shown that to me". I really thank him for forcing me to go back to my doctor. I was put on Lexapro and man was that like a switch was turned on. I could have really done some harm to myself if I hadn't changed meds.
I'm now 25 and a few months ago, I wanted to try life without my medication. With the help of my doctor, I weaned myself off of Lexapro. Again, it was a gradual change. I started crying more, I fought with my boyfriend more, I lost interest in my hobbies, things weren't right. I remember telling my boyfriend that I wanted to stay off them, I wanted to be able to live a normal life. "But the meds help you to be normal, it's not that you're weak... those meds help your brain and body to be normal. Being off your meds is not normal.” He was right. Back on the meds and I'm feeling like myself again.
BUT (and it's a big but) medication isn't everything. I like to tell people that you could have all the tools in the shed but if you don't have the manual, you're never going to fix that engine. Therapy/counseling and medication is the perfect combo. The meds help me to have less fluctuation in my moods while therapy has helped me better understand myself and the best ways I can deal with tough situations.
I still have depression and I know I always will. Some days are better than others, some months are better than others. It's up to me to make sure I notice the signs of things getting worse and it’s up to me to seek guidance. I wouldn't say it's a battle like I've heard it marketed before. It's more like swimming in a river. The current is always there and I always notice it. Sometimes it’s easy to resist it, other times I'd rather let it carry me. Beware of letting it carry you too far... you never know where that waterfall is going to be.