Go ask me: so, about the pills
June 17, 2011
Well.
I have been thinking and thinking about this. Was I too hasty, starting on Prozac? Should I have explored other therapies? Tried to get my nutrition in order? Worked on becoming more active, getting more sunshine, found a spiritual community, taken herbs, gotten a good old-fashioned exorcism? Before I launched into this weird and side-effects-filled journey?
I first took Prozac when I was 27. I had been in therapy for years. No amount of talking seemed to shrug off the consistently low mood I had fought for as long as I could remember. I had anxiety and panic attacks, as well; these began when I was a teenager.
The worst part of my feeling awful was that there was no reason for it, as far as I could see. I had a boyfriend who was funny and loving and supportive (I later married him). I had a fun job working with people I loved. I had plenty of friends. I had therapied myself until there were no more issues to unearth and discuss. There was nothing that I could use to blame for my constant misery. At some point, when my therapist suggested for the 93rd time that I think about medication, I listened.
My first psychiatrist was weird. Off-the-charts weird. He giggled when he talked about the sexual side effects of certain medications. I remain mystified as to why people like that go into psychiatry. Nonetheless, he was thorough. He ordered a complete blood workup to see if there were any underlying physical issues. When it was confirmed that I was in full working order, except for my malfunctioning thought processes, he prescribed Prozac.
A few days after I began the Prozac, I woke up one morning, and I felt fine.
Here's the thing: up until that day, I had never felt fine. Not ever. I didn't know what "fine" was. I thought I did; I thought there were periods when I thought I was doing quite well. I thought the Prozac was treating a relatively recent development in my emotional state. And then I woke up that day, and I realized that this was normal, and this was how I was supposed to feel all the time. And it was utterly, utterly new to me.
It was as if I had spent my entire life hearing a constant thrumming sound in the background, a percussive rhythm that became part of the fabric of my life. And then I woke up to silence, and I had no idea what silence was. And I could think, without all that noise.
Well! I proceeded to call all of my friends. I couldn't get enough of this feeling. This being fine was a miracle! Who knew? Was everyone else like this? Did everyone else get to experience what I was experiencing? I practically skipped out of my house that morning. I'm sure I was unbearable for a while, there. I don't think I cared even the tiniest little bit.
That was 15 years ago, and if I had been smart, I would have never messed with the prescription I was on, but the records show that I am not always smart. About a year later, although things were going swimmingly, I decided to stop taking Prozac, and then I relapsed. And I began it again, and stopped again, the then another relapse. This happened four times. Meanwhile I switched psychiatrists (I just couldn't take the giggling) and my new doc for some reason just desperately wanted me to be bipolar. She put me on all kinds of bipolar meds that made me ill, and then I found a smarter doctor, and the bipolar diagnosis was quickly scrapped.
Here I am now, back on Prozac. I've read a lot about depression in the ensuing years, and one thing I learned is that if you have more than 3 or 4 relapses, you probably shouldn't ever go off the medication. If you've read my last few posts about my depression and the medication adjustments, you know that I had another relapse while on Prozac, which was (for me) unprecedented, and worrisome, to say the least. Thus the new drug, Remeron, which didn't take. So now I'm only on Prozac, again, and right now I'm back to feeling fine. Which is a feeling I love with all my heart.
As for my relapse-on-Prozac, I think I leaned on the medication a little too hard, and as a result let my diet and self-care slip because, after all, I had the drugs to keep me well. This is like a person being on cholesterol medication and eating bacon and ice cream sundaes every night. In the past six months I've been completely overhauling my diet, in addition to making sleep a high priority, both in quality and quantity. (Mmm, quantity.) I'll get into the food stuff in a later post, as I see this post is getting too long for its own good.
So: with everything I've been through, would I still have gone on medication? In a heartbeat. Medication was, for me, a tremendous gift. I got to see what relief felt like. And when I lost that relief, I knew what I could have again. I knew exactly what I was aiming for.
Reader Comments (60)
Great post. Thank you for sharing so honestly. I'm a fellow sufferer, and I know exactly what you mean about feeling "fine" being an entirely new experience - and about relapses. I'm so happy to hear you're doing well!
Yeah. I so totally hear you. In my case, it's Zoloft, but same thing. One of the times I fell off the cliff was a period when I just kind of forgot to take it for a few months. OMFG. Everything fell apart, mentally AND physically. So, I'm a lifer too.
I could have written a very similar post. Thankfully I only have had one relapse. And it wasn't as bad as I was before I went on Prozac the first time. But it made me realize that I think I need the medicine to be fine. And I've FINALLY come to terms with that and OK with that. Because I like being fine. And I don't like not being fine.
Thank you for sharing this!
You nailed it! This is exactly why some people really do need to be on meds! Meds aren't the cure all, but for some people they really are just needed.
As a non-depressive, I always appreciate understanding, with precision, the reasons people choose medication. I think the book and trend of "Listening to Prozac"--and the consequent notion that there was such a thing as "cosmetic" medication for people who just wanted to be more outgoing, say, or optimistic--did a lot of people with clinical depression a disservice. It muddied the waters. I once came across a book for people with depression who didn't want to take medication. It listed all the areas in which you had to manage your life: your food, your relationships, your exercise, your sleep ... there were a bunch of other chapters. And though it seemed theoretically POSSIBLE to manage depression by following a lifestyle "prescription," it sounded like more work--way more work--than a full-time job. It also didn't admit to the proposition that sometimes you're not in control of, say, other people, or your food choices or your ability to get sleep. Good luck with the feeling fine. And thank you for writing about your experience. You inspire me to be more compassionate and less judgmental about situations I can't ever completely understand.
I think my most recent (I'll say third, hard to count) relapse was the last, and the worst, because the effect on my family relationships was really terrible. I've been back on Celexa for a month and I am almost back to what I recognize as that unfamiliar "fine." I think this time I know it's for good, and I'm praying I never hit that skid where I start skipping and then going cold turkey for no real reason at all.
I'm glad you're there, too.
One day my Senior year of college I felt normal, and I thought, oh yeah, I remember this from a long time ago. Like, twelve years ago I felt this way. And even if tomorrow I'm depressed again, now I know it's possible, now I know what normal feels like, and I know I'll have it again.
The next year the director of the Health Center at my grad school tried to put me on Prozac. I took it for 3 days and felt horrible. My pupils were always dilated yet everything looked too dim and off-color, my thoughts were foggy, I felt like I was underwater while the rest of the world was above water.
Alice thank you SO much for this description. I have sometimes second-guessed that decision (and plenty of subsequent ones) to avoid Prozac and other SSRIs, but I'm feeling really vindicated right now. Those drugs are made for you, and not me, and that's awesome for both of us. I'm glad to hear that you're taking charge of your diet and exercise again too, and I look forward to reading more about that.
Thank you, and best wishes.
I'd like to apologize for the weird jump between my second and third paragraphs up there. I was dressing Barbies in between, next time I'll remember to proofread rather than assume all the sentences that were in my head made it onto the comment!
Alice - Thank you, thank you, for sharing this. I know that it must be difficult, but could potentially be helpful to so so many people. I'm glad that you've found a medication that works and am so happy to hear that you are doing better. There is no shame in medication, at all. My 15-year old daughter takes thyroid medication because her body doesn't make enough thyroid to keep her functioning properly; this is no different. Some of us don't make enough "brain chemicals" (serotonin or whatever) to keep us functioning properly, so we take medication. Diabetics need insulin...some people need glasses/contacts. Same, same. Nobody ever asks a person with glasses if they consider just eating more carrots... Of course, taking care of yourself, diet and exercise-wise is always a good idea, for lots of reasons, but I'm thrilled that the medicine is working for you, as well. I, personally, think that it should be added to drinking water, like fluoride. Would make the world a much better place. Also, some of the most insightful, artistic, humorous people that I've ever known have been people who struggle with depression. Maybe it's just a coincidence, but there does, at least in my experience, seem to be a connection...introspectiveness? self-examination? ability to better see different points of view? I don't know why, and maybe it's not appropriate to say that...just my two cents, but...if the medication enables you to be the sort of person and the sort of writer that you are, and still function and be happy, then that's a win-win. Best of both worlds.
Oh, that last paragraph made me cry. I've been outside the parameters of relief for awhile now (after two really successful years of relief-on-meds) and the aiming to get back to it is wearing on me so hard. This gave me hope. Thank you.
Thank you for posting this today. I've been on and off anti-depressants for over a decade and last year finally find one that made me feel the normal you describe so well. Lately I've been feeling more anxious, down, and generally less even-keeled. I've been toughing it out, trying to sort out whether it's time to adjust the dose or whether I just need to get through a rough patch in my personal life. Your words remind me that it's worth bringing this up next week when I see my psychiatrist, because I like feeling normal so much!
When I was first prescriped antidepressants, I was very reluctant. But I have a friend who is a doctor (well, a paediatrician to be exact) and she made me feel comfortable about it. "If you have a headache, you take a pill. When you have heartburn, or high cholestorol, you take medication, don't you? Depression is as much a simple disease as those other things, so why suffer if medication can help you?"
Since then, my doctor asks me about every year how long I'm willing to take the medication. In the beginning I always thought that one day I wanted to live without it. But now? Let's analyse: I feel like myself, I act normal (mostly anyway), I am generally fun to be around with, and I can take stress and daily life.
I see no reason whatsoever to go back to feeling miserable and life barely worth living.
If it was up to me I'd take the antidepressants forever. Without a doubt. I've seen the alternative, and it's just not worth it.
Now I've come to think about it... I just told your story, but in my own words.
Damn, I need some originality. And some meds.
Are we supposed to feel "fine"? Obviously that's a big, loaded question that likely doesn't really have an answer. Waking up and feeling "fine" definitely isn't the norm for me, every day includes varying degrees of up and down and heavy and light. At 28 I'm coming to terms with that, the idea that the only constant is change when it comes to emotions, but the idea of being able to take a pill that automatically buoys me is awfully enticing.
Here's what I hate about the NO DRUGS religionists. They make you feel guilty for taking medication that ABSOLUTELY saves the quality of your life. For years I had debilitating irritable bowel. I think my daughter's first complete sentence was "Mommy's in the bathroom." Crapping had become insurmountable. I ended up in the ER of several occasions FOS (full of stool or, let's just face it, full of shit).
I spent bazillions on yoga, hypnotherapy, therapy, naturopaths, homeopaths, freakin' witch doctors! The guilt over taking a pill.
Finally I succumbed to modern medicine. Now I'm on Cymbalta and the fabulous, old-school Elavil. And I'm gonna be a lifer unless my plane crashes and I end up on an island like Tom Hanks in "Castaway." While my symptoms are not entirely gone I can live again! Human being used to be eaten by Tyrannousaurus Rexes by the time they were 30. They didn't live so fucking long.
So I fully endorse your pill habit. Carpe diem! xo
Hoorah for wellness!
I love this because even though anti-depressants are more common as people are becoming more comfortable talking about them and what-not, there is still a stigma for some people. I am and have been on anti-anxiety/anti-depressants for 10 years now and I accept the fact that I will never be off of them and *I* am okay with that and frankly if others aren't - too bad, so sad.
I also like what Lara said. One can't control one's actual WIRING of the brain or actual brain chemistry. One can't "snap" oneself out of having diabetes any more than one can "snap" oneself out of depression. Diabetics need insulin and many depressed/anxious people need meds as well. I am one of them, as I previously noted.
I will comment though that I think I know maybe ONE of my mommy friends who is NOT on some form of anti-depressant/anti-anxiety. ONE. I just wonder what that says about our society; about our expectations of women, of mothers...just a trend I'm noticing that is obviously too complicated to get into here, but it does exist.
Alice, thank you so much for this insightful post. I want to print it out and hand it to every person who has ever questioned my need for pills.
I found myself nodding vigorously at your description of feeling normal for the first time. For me that moment was at age 34 after starting Zoloft. I was born a worrier and had my first panic attack at age 12 (although I didn't figure out what it was until years later.) I too had spent so long in therapy that I had nothing left to talk about. I liken the surprising sense of wellbeing Zoloft gave me to getting glasses for the first time -- I had no idea the extent to which I'd been struggling to see until the world came into sharp focus for the first time in my life.
I recently relapsed after some post-surgery pain meds interacted with the Zoloft and threw my seratonin levels out of whack. I had forgotten how miserably distracting a noisy, obsessive brain can be. I'm not quite back to normal yet, but it's reassuring to hear that the medication that worked so well for you in the past is working once again.
Welcome back to feeling fine!
Sarah -- I think your question hinges on your definition of "fine". You say that "every day includes varying degrees of up and down and heavy and light." Before I started on Zoloft, I had some days that included "up" and "light", but most days were overwhelmingly "down" and "heavy". There was a time when I truly believed that was normal for me. I was convinced I was just a pessimist, and I could never figure out why I couldn't just relax and feel content for once. Even my best days included a continuous undercurrent of anxiety and sadness.
Now that I'm medicated, my days are mostly balanced. Some are better than others. I can still cry; I'm still capable of feeling concern and anger and shyness and sadness. The difference is that now, rather than getting trapped in a whirlpool of negative thoughts that I can't escape, I'm free to experience the full range of emotions that most people consider normal. That balance is what I consider "feeling fine."
This is so very similar to my own experience. The self-therapy, eliminating things that might be making me unhappy, finally realizing there was NOTHING wrong so why was I always unhappy? Then getting on medication (Lexapro, for me) and suddenly, for the first time ever, feeling fine.
What a feeling!
Thanks so much for this post. I work in the mental health field and there is still such a stigma for people taking medication for mental illness. No one would ask someone with a medical condition if they regretted taking medication for their condition. It's such a double standard and medication can make a HUGE difference for people suffering from mental illness (and in some mental illnesses medication is the ONLY scientifically proven successful way to treat it).
You are braver than you think. You are.
I'm so glad to hear you're feeling good again. I've only experienced that sense of feeling "fine" once, and it wasn't depression meds that did it, it was the medicine I took to treat my Grave's disease, which was causing hyperthyroidism. After about a week on it I suddenly felt SO GOOD. I would go for walks with my sisters and run around them while they walked, I felt so good, and so happy! It was wonderful. Then the Grave's disease went into remission and I stopped taking the medicine because I didn't need it, and slowly over the last few years the depression has come back and is getting worse. I have had plenty of blood tests and it's not my thyroid, and unfortunately I can't take anti-depressants because I've had horrible reactions to everything I've tried, and after a while it gets kind of scary losing days and weeks to trying something that feels like it's killing you. So for now I'm taking SAMe (a supplement), which seems to help some, and vitamins, and trying some other things but am still struggling.
All that to say thank you for posting so openly about what you're going through; it just helps so much to know that others do understand and do find solutions that really work, and hopefully I will too.
I don't suffer from depression, but I found this post inspiring. Thank you so much for sharing Alice. Hope is such a valuable thing.
Yes: when I hit upon the right ADD medication for me, at the right dose, it was like someone had gone into my brain and established a filing system. All I could talk about for months was my wonderful medicine. And I would ask people: is it like this for you? For everyone? Like when you wake up, you know what you are supposed to do that day? And you can remember that you have a goal, and then move toward it? Is this how everyone else's brain has been all this time?
I hang around a lot of sweet, crunchy, yoga types (I am arguably this type myself) who listened patiently, then added for me, "So you'll take this for a couple months, a few months? And it will help you find other ways to deal with this issue? Have you tried (blah blah herb, pose, etc. which yes, I had tried)?"
Oh nonono I corrected them. I will continue to do things and try things but I will STAY on this medication forever and ever amen.
Thanks so much for sharing your journey with depression. So glad you are feeling better.