depression medicine

***UPDATE****1-11-15     This is a battle.  But I've realized that I was never depressed.  It was Anxiety.  Maybe.  Among many other things.  But Jesus.  Yeah.  Jesus.  He helps.  He heals. And several other factors as well.  I'm not longer medicated.  At this point.  I don't want to be, but if you do, that's ok.  But for me.  Jesus is helping me.  But seriously, I know this shit like the back of my hand and it ain't fun.  Depression and Anxiety can be paralyzing.  I know.  Take the next few words as part of my never ending story. 




Dead.  I feel like I am emotionally dead.  I don’t care.  Well, I do care.  But not about most of the things I once did.  I lack drive.  I have a deeper understanding of people who have slumped so low that they can’t pull themselves back up.  It happens fast.  Faster than you realized it and before you know it it’s too late.  It takes something strong to pull you back up.  It takes something other than yourself to continue and fight back from the pits of loneliness and depression. Other humans you see daily can rarely help.  They try and their efforts aren’t unnoticed but it’s deeper.  Someone can’t help you if you don’t even know what will help.  Sometimes you don’t even want help and your mind convinces you to stay mad, hurt and lonely.

Alive.  Writing these words makes me feel like there is a spark.  A glimmer of hope to a life that just hours ago tried to think  of a respectful way to off himself. Something worth holding onto.  Something of worth. Perhaps I am going through this storm to come out on the other side.  So I can be a life preserver for another.  So I can understand their thoughts and feelings when they can’t themselves.  

I wrote those words a few weeks ago.  Sunday, January 12 2013.  It was a dark day for me.  A day I need to share.  These weren't all the words I wrote that day, nor all the thoughts. I haven't read them since, until I started to write this. I am glad I went back, for that last part. To share what I went through and continue to go through in hopes that I can help another.  

I suffer from depression.  I never knew what it was.  I always mocked it in a way.  When someone said they were taking anti-depressants I would write them off as having a lack of will, or even a lack of faith. Someone that gave up and resorted to drugs to make them feel happy.  I thought happiness should come from within.  I thought....wrong. 

That sunday I didn't fight it.  I didn't try to fight my feelings.  I just sunk deep into a pit of worthlessness.  I stayed in the basement listening  to my pregnant wife and son laugh and play and it only made me feel worse. Why?  I went to bed early, and hoped my 2 year old son wouldn't come in and say goodnight and give me a hug.  Why?  Little things make me violently angry.  Why?  None of my friends or family had any idea how I was truly feeling.  Why?  I don't have all the answers.  I don't need the answers.  I just knew at that point, that wasn't normal.  Something wasn't right.  And I wanted it fixed.  Nothing I've tried offered a permanent fix.  Exercise helps, sure.  Working and accomplishing works, sure.  But try motivating yourself to do that when depression already has wrapped it's ugly grasp around you.  I went to the doctors, shared my story,  got diagnosed and am now taking anti-depressants.  Unfortunately not everyone goes the legal route and self medicates with other not so legal drugs in other ways.  Those ways don't often turn out so well.   

It is now August 12 2014, One day after we found out of the suicide of Robin Williams.  It seems that it's ok to talk about mental illness now.  Sad that it takes death for that to happen. 

My anger still plagued me for quite some time after starting medication.  Other aspects of my depression were eased, but I still found myself becoming angry.  I often times would punch something or break something.  Punching bags didn't work.  Something had to break.  Several times throughout my life this has been the norm.  I remember tearing all of my sisters articles and timeline of news story off of her door in a fit of rage, threatening/running away often, punching walls (which at one time ended in a broken hand), punched my truck once and left a dent, threw a remote and shattered it, threw one of Josiahs toys and broke it, punched a door clean off it's hinges and various other things.  Never punched a person, but used words pretty viciously.   I wanted that to stop.  So I met with a pastor at the church I attend and he offered some advice.  Routine and control.  My outbursts came when I realized I was losing control of a situation or person.  I used my anger to control them.  This rarely works and even if it did, it's not healthy.  I began to write more things down to free up some brain space.  Once I realized that a lack of control was the trigger to my anger, it has provided me with a little edge on being in control of myself when I can't control my surroundings.  

Between those tips, medications, exercise, staying active and a healthy diet I have taken an upper hand on this battle.  I share not for attention, but to hope that another will find comfort that they are not alone in their battle and others can empathize and get help from someone that understands.  I'm still in the middle of it, and glad that I'm not alone.