Tag Archives: Major depressive disorder

Depression sucks, but you don’t have to

Lately I have been experiencing the Sad Ponys.  I don’t like to talk about this much, because let’s face it, Sad Pony is a real downer.  But sometimes his weight is really, really heavy and I need help getting his big pony butt off of me.

Part of my problem is with my medication.  Now I’m not one of those people that fears aspirin and thinks Big Pharma is planning a major takeover with doctors around the globe and that if you have depression all you should do is take vitamins and hop on a couch.  But I will say that getting the correct meds and the correct dosage can feel much like a nasty trip down the rabbit hole.

Side effects may vary.

Side effects may vary.

Recently I was put on Abilify.  They have commercials about it all the time, just like they do for every other medicine, as if we average schmoes can decide if we need a new heart medication even if the side effects are dry eye and death.  I always figured that’s why we went to doctors, you know, so those peeps with all that education would tell us what medicine we need.  But sometimes they don’t know so they just kind of throw stuff at us cause, doctors.

So I was a bit skeptical about taking this stuff, but I did because lately I’ve had the depression that makes you tired all the time and reduces your emotions to “don’t care”, “really don’t care”, and “fuck off”.  So I took it.  And it was so far out.  It worked.  I started having this energy I haven’t had in so long I’d forgotten what it felt like.  At work I got some actual work accomplished.  I didn’t have to go to bed as soon as I got home from work.  Of course I kind of couldn’t go to bed because I was so freaking wired, but that was a small price to pay for experiencing energy and actual emotion.  I played a moving song and actually cried because it was so beautiful and I was feeling something.

I might have cried a bit much.  Damn it.

I might have cried a bit much. Damn it.

So when I went to see my shrink I was expecting an attagirl and a prescription and a bye-bye, cause my shrink doesn’t exactly talk to me or look at me for very long, which is generally fine with me.  But this time he was very alarmed.  ZOMG.  I had gained ten pounds in two weeks!  Hadn’t I noticed?  Well, no, not actually.  I experience a fun thing called bloating a lot of the time so I just figured it was that.  And anyway, it wasn’t technically 10 pounds because he didn’t realize I gain and lose five pounds like every morning and if he’d weighed me then he’d realize I’d only gained like six pounds.  Or so.  And also once I told him to check his chart he realized it had been a month, not two weeks, since he’d seen me.

I don’t have a great deal of faith in this shrink.  For one thing, he didn’t know when my last visit was.  For another, I don’t think he knows who I am.  I’m pretty sure he couldn’t pick me out in a line up.  In other words, my shrink is an asshat, but that’s not generally a problem cause all I need him to do is sign off on my meds.  But this time he took me off, because weight gain is a major problem.  I told him I had so much energy, though.  And he said, “Good thing, cause you gain all the weight!”

He is still living today by the grace of God.

So after tsking a while about THE WEIGHT he decided to take me off that one and immediately put me on another medication that was “pretty much the same thing.”  You know, don’t worry your pretty little fat head, Alice.  So I left and just as I was feeling it couldn’t get worse, I realized I had split my pants in the front.  Ah.  So yeah, I guess I might have put on a little bit of weight.  Yay.

Scale of Injustice

Scale of Injustice

I tried the new med.  But I wasn’t doing well on it, judging by the amount of crybaby per day increasing exponentially.  Of course, since he took me off one and immediately put me on another, I wasn’t sure if it was this drug or coming off of the other drug or something else all together.  I looked up this drug and realized it was a medicine for your thyroid.  Which he didn’t actually tell me, cause, well, I’m a woman and a regular person, not a doctor, so who needs to know that he’s messing with my endocrine system, am I right?

So I called the shrink nurse (her name is Boo and no I’m not kidding) and she told me to stop taking it and “see what happens.”  I love being experimented on.  It’s like when Alice was like, wtf, I’ll just eat this crap and drink this stuff and oh SHIT I am 16 feet tall.  But I did it, and well, stuff was still crappy but it was hard to tell the current crap from the other crap.  This experiment was not very well done.  I think these people need to go back to rats.

My friends said I needed a new shrink.  So I tried two others.  The first one would not take anyone who had seen another shrink in the same town (there are a total of five in this town, two of them children’s shrinks) in the last year.  Well, great, so that’s really helpful.  Then I tried the other shrink and surprise, she doesn’t take insurance.  Of any kind.  These people apparently don’t want to have patients.  I guess that makes it easier on them, though I’m not sure how they stay in business.

I'm sitting on youuuu.  Oh, yeah, your shrink sucks.

I’m sitting on youuuu. Oh, yeah, shrinks suck.

So I was kind of stuck, and I don’t like feeling stuck, and that made the Sads even worse, and I was having trouble even going to work.  But I did yesterday, and I made it through.  Not with doctors, or meds, but with a little help from my bloggy friends, Merbear and Twindaddy.  These guys stayed with me on the Internet, checking in constantly, and keeping me sane.  It’s not like they didn’t have other things they could be doing besides entertaining me, but they did it anyway, because they care about me and they are awesomesauce.  We talked about intellectual topics like all the ways to say pee (“piss, number one, urinate, oh what a relief it is, etc.”)  I made it through the day because of them.  Thanks, guys.

I’m not sure what’s ahead, but I figure eventually I’ll get out of this damn rabbit hole.  Because there will be someone to throw me a rope.  I’m very lucky for that.  But I wanted peeps to know because sometimes I use humor to cover up how I really feel (no shit, right?) and that doesn’t help those who are in the same boat floating on a sea of tears, dealing with the mad hatter and that bitch the Queen of Hearts, and everything else Wonderland tosses at you.  We aren’t alone.  We aren’t ever alone.  There’s always a place at the table.  New cup, move down.

Come join me for tea.

Come join me for tea.