What makes your rising sun so new?
I could use a fresh beginning too
All of my regrets are nothing new
There’s a stigma that’s attached to the use of medication. I’m not sure why but it’s there.
I can clearly remember the fuss years ago when Tom Cruise attacked Brooke Shields for being so open with her use of antidepressants for PND.
As a society, I think we’ve come a long way in addressing this, but the argument is still there in my head. Somehow having to rely on medication makes you less of a person.
Now I know this thinking is completely flawed. I quite often rely on my Ventolin Puffer to help me breathe, and that doesn’t make me any less of a person.
So why should it be any different? This block in my head now? It shuts me down just like my lungs do in an asthma attack.
I feel like I can’t breathe.
My issue with depression medication, is that it’s changing the way your mind works, and I don’t seem to trust it. Like it’s all a giant conspiracy theory and who knows what is real anyway?
If I’m miserable and down without it, is that just the way I’m meant to be, because it’s the way my body is functioning? Or if I’m happy and perky on it, is that me hyped up on drugs, or just my body being restored to what it’s supposed to be?
On and on the conversation goes around and around in my mind, both arguments competing for equal floor time.
I know the logical answer. I know first hand the effectiveness of good medication and that it does not change me; it is refreshing to be me as I know I was.
Like taking a puff of Ventolin when the air is cold, it opens me up and lets the air in.
But, there’s still the stigma.
It’s subtle sometimes, but it’s there.
A conversation someone else had. ‘Is she going on drugs or is she just going to fight it?’
A innocent, yet incredulous, question, ‘Are you still on those?’
A well meaning comment. ‘I’m so proud of you for trying to get off them.’
And the answers I wish I was brave enough to say.
“I am fighting! I want to fight! Me filling that script is choosing to fight. I can’t fix this on my own.”
“Yes, I am still on them. I’d love to not be, but I can’t do it. My brain is broken. It’s really not my fault.”
“Will you still be proud of me if I’m on them forever?” (The answer to that, was a big, fat, resounding yes.)
But beyond the stigma and the arguments and the conspiracy theory, there is also reality. And the reality I am living is that without my little white tablet, at this stage, I am not all I can be. All I’m meant to be.
Yesterday left my head kicked in
I never, never thought that
I would fall like that
Never knew that I could hurt this bad
My mind is full, and as a result I have trouble concentrating on just about anything else.
Looking to a have a glass of wine to sooth my anxiety is not an appropriate or healthy solution.
And more than that….
For the last week, my almost six year old keeps telling me she ‘feels sad,’ but she doesn’t know why. Today I read that left untreated, depression can almost be contagious. Children and partners can absorb those depressive feelings and are more prone to suffering from them themselves.
My Bridie is a beautiful, full of life, firecracker of a kid. I refuse to let her become anything less because I feel like I should be walking around with a tin foil hat on my head.
This is the way that I say I love You
This is the way that I say I’m Yours
This is the way, this is the way
After beginning to share this with you all yesterday, I was blown away by the comments and support received on my blog, Facebook and twitter. Humanity can be such a beautiful thing.
In once afternoon, your words removed all the negative stigma from mental illness.
Your thoughts, they helped me breathe.
The words and the hugs and the kisses and all the love they represented, followed by Boatman asking me to go back on the Zoloft showed me that ‘winning’ is not necessarily about finishing the race first, it’s about your attitude while you’re running it.
If I’m stuck on these forever, that doesn’t mean I’ve lost.
It means I’m strong enough to accept that things are not how I would like, and move on anyway.
It means I’ve got enough support to know that when I fall, I have others to pick me up again if I can’t do it myself.
It means that I can see the future, and know that there is a future beyond the busyness of every mundane day.
When the morning dawns, I’ll make a change and move forward. For a few days I’ll still struggle. I’ll still feel like I’m losing. My mind will still be blocked.
But soon, in the near future, it will get better. I’ll feel better. And I’ll be back. My zany, crazy, Jess of a self.
Still broken. Still imperfect. Still needing more help than I care to admit.
But still Jess.
Learning to crawl
I’m finding that You and You alone can break my fall
I’m living again, awake and alive
I’m dying to breathe in these abundant skies