So, the older I get, the more I wonder when I'm in a room filled with people, how many of them are on antidepressants?!? I used to think I was the only one. Now, I'm sure that I'm not.
Shoot, I'm not the only one with issues. You know how I know this?
I know this, because I'm not the only with kids.
My first experience with the AD's was when I was a freshman in High School. As I've talked about a little bit before on my blog, I was a victim of rape in 9th grade at a party I should have never been at. And with all the pain and humiliation I went through during and afterwards, my dad brought me to a counselor (thank the LORD!) who suggested I might cope better with the help of Prozac.
I was broken and desperate, and I took that pill as though my life depended on it. 6 months later, I was out of my darkness, and I said goodbye to the big P.
Here's the great thing about me. Well one of the many great things...I have a predisposition to depression. It's on both sides, and I'm just one of the lucky daughters who gets to take it on.
Yes, God thinks I'm strong. And I'm not talking about these guns either...although....
{not even close to what's inside}
For the most part, I've been able to keep the depression at bay without meds, except for one other time in my adult life. While most may think the first year of marriage is all about a honeymoon stage, for me, I was F-R-E-A-K-I-N-G out. Freaking out leads to tears, which led to anxiety and pooping and well, eventually back to my happy pills. {I had an amazing husband, obviously, the issues were all about me. It's me, not you.}
Oh ya people, I really know how to party.
A year later, I chilled out, got my stuff together, and dropped 'em like it's hot.
But then I had a baby.
And then I had to deal with death while having a kid, who might I mention never stopped whining or crying or throwing himself on the floor when people looked at him.....all the freaking day long.
{Feeling the pain}
And then, let's really talk about anxiety, the awful, I can't eat, I need to poop, what is sleep?, no I don't want to talk on the phone or leave my house, kind of anxiety. And it sucked. Just slightly.
I called my doctor and begged for the pills. Please anything! Shoot, I would have swallowed sushi (I hate sushi) if he told me it would make me better.
He tried one, and after weeks of feeling completely STONED all the while still ANXIOUS, we finally decided that ummmm ya, maybe it just wasn't the match for me. As much as you would think being stoned could be fun, let me tell you, mixed with anxiety, not so much fun. Nope, not so much.
Was I unfixable?
But then I saw the healer. A new doctor with a new plan.
He spent time with me, reviewed my history, my families history, and really listened to me. And then he broke the news to me. I may very well be a lifer. But I was okay with that. Because my family needs me. And when I'm busy in the bathroom with anxiety poo (don't eeeeeven get me started on anxiety poo), I can't very well be a good mother.
It's now been about two years since I've really had any bad long lasting anxiety and even longer for depression. And the longer I go, the more confident I feel. I totally one hundred percent believe God can heal through medication.
I know that there are so many people out there who feel shame about having or needing to take these happy pills, and I just don't get it.
Life is short, I want to enjoy it. I want to be the best I can possibly be in this life.
So, while some may look down on me or think I'm weak, I know in my heart I am not. I am stronger than I ever believed. And I will do whatever I have to do, take whatever I have to take to be there for my husband and my kids. I am not ashamed.
Oooh, got your attention there didn't I?
So, the older I get, the more I wonder when I'm in a room filled with people, how many of them are on antidepressants?!? I used to think I was the only one. Now, I'm sure that I'm not.
My first experience with the AD's was when I was a freshman in High School. As I've talked about a little bit before on my blog, I was a victim of rape in 9th grade at a party I should have never been at. And with all the pain and humiliation I went through during and afterwards, my dad brought me to a counselor (thank the LORD!) who suggested I might cope better with the help of Prozac.
I was broken and desperate, and I took that pill as though my life depended on it. 6 months later, I was out of my darkness, and I said goodbye to the big P.
Here's the great thing about me. Well one of the many great things...I have a predisposition to depression. It's on both sides, and I'm just one of the lucky daughters who gets to take it on.
Yes, God thinks I'm strong. And I'm not talking about these guns either...although....
Oh ya people, I really know how to party.
I called my doctor and begged for the pills. Please anything! Shoot, I would have swallowed sushi (I hate sushi) if he told me it would make me better.
He tried one, and after weeks of feeling completely STONED all the while still ANXIOUS, we finally decided that ummmm ya, maybe it just wasn't the match for me. As much as you would think being stoned could be fun, let me tell you, mixed with anxiety, not so much fun. Nope, not so much.
Was I unfixable?
But then I saw the healer. A new doctor with a new plan.
© 2009 "Le Musings of Moi"