I didn’t go to work this week. Like, at all. I couldn’t muster the… ANYTHING to get out of bed. I stayed in my room, in my bed until Wednesday afternoon when, in my pajamas, I drove my son to the taco shop to get dinner. I came back home, ate some carne asada nachos and crawled back into bed. Everything hurt; my back, my hips, my legs, my ears, my eyes. I didn’t feel like doing anything – not even playing video games, which, if you know me at all, you know is one of my favorite things to do. I mostly just laid in bed, TV on but not really watching.
Thursday morning, I finally admitted to myself what was going on. I have had bouts of depression since my early twenties. I’ve been on and off meds a few times; I stopped taking them because I felt better, or I didn’t like the idea of them, whatever. I tried to control my symptoms via other avenues, diet and exercise, cutting out alcohol, but this last spell… well, it made me realize I can’t. At least not right now.
I called to make an appointment with my doctor, and when the lady asked me what I needed to be seen for, I burst into tears. Having to say it out loud made it more real, but it was also such a relief.
My doctor and I talked for a long time, and he asked me a lot of questions. He said that given my history, it is likely that I’ll be on meds for a long time, possibly forever. He also wants to check my thyroid, though, because apparently certain thyroid conditions can cause depression. I did bloodwork yesterday, so we’ll see where that all goes. For now, though, he sent me on my way with a prescription for Zoloft, Ambien, sunshine, exercise and a book. He told me to force myself out of bed and out of the house if I had to. Easier said than done, really.
But today, I did just that. My friend had some gifts for the kids from Las Vegas, so I showered (for the first time in an embarrassingly long time), put on make up and a cute outfit and met him for breakfast. I feel bad because I know I wasn’t all the way THERE during our meal; I really just wanted to get back home. But I went, and that’s a plus.
I know people are worried about me, so let me just say this: I will be fine. I am taking steps to make sure of that. I may just be a little quiet for a bit, that’s all.
For those of you wondering about my girly business: my biopsies came back WAY better than my pap. Like, the lab checked it twice to make sure they hadn’t made a mistake, because my biopsies were so good. So I now have to re-pap in three months. Leave it to me to have a complicated vagina.
xo – Heather.
I swear to god I am in the same position you are. I’ve struggled with depression my entire life, but like you, have been able to cope with little tricks and such until now. Stress brings out the worst in me, and I am just beyond stressed with our current situation. I’ve turned into this shadow of myself and I hate it. If I trusted my son to be alone in a room for more than ten minutes I’d be in bed all day too. Instead, I sit on the couch playing on my phone or in front of the computer reading about other people’s happy lives.
I went to the doctor the other day to get back on depression meds as well; I went with prozac though. I was on it almost ten years ago and I seem to remember it working, so hopefully it’ll help. I’ve tried zoloft, wellbutrin and effexor more recently and don’t remember them having much effect so we’ll see.
Anyway, I just wanted to reach out and let you know you’re definitely not alone. I know that’s lame and probably won’t help much, but I’ll think of you whenever I consider skipping my workout, so maybe you can think of me whenever you’re struggling to get out of bed? Let’s help eachother be strong.