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| Feature: Coming to Terms |
Posted by
daria_4 on Friday, March 31, 2006 - 05:19 AM PST
Passive Suicidal Ideologies. That’s what the doctor called it. I had gotten to a point where although I did not want to go through the act of killing myself, I would rather have been dead than have to keep going back to my job every day.
I realize I’m not the first person to ever be depressed (and I do mean clinically, thus sayeth a practicing Psychiatrist). I think I may be the first in my family to be diagnosed as such. This is definitely the first time I’ve ever been depressed.
Even before being clinically diagnosed with depression, I used to hate the way people threw around the term. No matter how angsty my teen years were, I knew I wasn’t depressed—and neither were most of my friends.
The first time I met anyone with clinical depression was in college. I found out then just how many people were on anti-depressant medication(s). I never thought much of it until last January when my doctor suggested I go on Prozac. That very day, I picked up my prescription forty minutes after my appointment—all done in time for lunch—but I didn’t take any pills that day. Suddenly, I was about to become one of “those people.” But who were they? Although I had known people on medication for depression, I had never made any negative judgments about their predicaments. And yet, with it happening to me, it became something bad—another skeleton for my closet.
I took my first pill the next day.
A friend—close for the amount of time we’ve known each other—had recently attempted suicide. We worked in the same place. I visited him while he was in the hospital. He wasn’t in a padded room, but he was in a ward. He had to check out a pen from the front desk to be able to write in his journal. They wouldn’t let him have the teddy bear I brought to him because it was considered an “unsafe” item. Hell of a place.
Talking to him about what both of us were going through felt pretty good. Being able to laugh about it felt better, if a little strange. I began to think it wasn’t so bad after all, getting help. It certainly saved Charlie’s life. He was obviously so much happier with himself and the direction in which his life was now headed. It makes me wonder when he won’t be depressed anymore, when I won’t be depressed anymore.
I sometimes worry that if things are better now that I’m off the ship, maybe I wasn’t really that bad off in the first place; maybe I could have made it those last few weeks and gone on to an awesome two-year shore duty instead of being on a temporary shore duty in limbo, waiting to find out if I’m being medically retired from the Navy or not. I should be happy; this is probably my early out… but instead I just doubt myself. Does the fact that I can even have these thoughts give weight to the ideas presented therein?
Despite what any of this may sound like, I don’t want a pity party. I just want a little understanding of what’s going on with me. I’ve always been a fairly well adjusted person; it’s a little hard not to be—particularly now. It’s hard, but not surprising. When things were at their worst about five months ago, I remember ranting about being strong and responsible and mature for other people in my life, and wondering who was ever going to do those things for me. Just for once…
I usually do insane amounts of research about anything medical that has to do with me. I probably knew more about my IUD than the doctor who gave it to me. I’m the kind of person who actually reads the entire insert that comes with tampons and birth control pills. While I did do some research on self-mutilation, I have avoided typing the words, clinical depression, into Google. Though I haven’t even looked, I’m fairly certain there’s more information on depression than I care to try to sift through. Not as a matter of research, I watched the film but neglected to read the book, Prozac Nation. I don’t remember if she actually said it or not, but I seem to recall the sentiment that while she was on Prozac, the main character still felt like herself, but not quite. I’m not sure there’s any better way to describe it, really. I’m still me, but I’m not exactly myself lately.
It hasn’t started yet, but I’m supposed to go to some sort of group therapy. Dialectic Behavior Therapy, I think it’s called. It has more to do with the self-mutilatory behavior than with the depression. I’m actually a little anxious for it to start. Although things are a million times better now that I’m out of that toxic environment, I still feel like there are things I need to talk about. I’m not entirely sure what those things are; I just know I need to talk. I suppose this article is a product of that need.
About ten sentences into this thing, I titled it. I think there was some sort of direction I meant to take it in after that, but I’m not sure I really have come to terms with my situation. I’ve accepted some things, but it still feels like a far cry from coming to terms with it all. Despite the relatively small size of my measly 20mg, Prozac is a hard pill for me to swallow.
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| Coming to Terms | Login/Create an account | 14 Comments |
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Re: Coming to Terms
by callei on Mar 31, 2006 - 02:14 PM
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D, I am there with you. There is a lot of information out there about depression and most of it is dry and clinical or ads for medications. But the fact that you dont want to research it indicated that you really do have bad depression. I have never known you to not want to learn everything you could about anything that involved you or interested you before.
my heart goes out to ya sweetie. I hope the pills are helping and that the therapy is helping and that being away from the toxic work environment is helping. I hope also that a virtual hug from me to you helps too.
*HUGS*
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Re: Coming to Terms
by gothicmorman (litty_klj@hotmail.com)
on Apr 04, 2006 - 12:01 PM
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I am relatively depressed a lot of the time, my mom has been persistent about it and it kind of goes up and down in a great yearly cycle but i have avoided going on meds at all costs. With that I have avoided getting help at all costs. I don't want to get professional help because they will most likely put me on meds and that is it - i won't get any real help so im just trying to deal with it myself. its not really bad so im surviving. It would probably be good for you to research it. I always find researching problems (especially over the internet) brings me to find other people's stories of how they have struggled with problems and it keeps in mind that nobody is totally alone in the world.
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Re: Coming to Terms
by Domkitten (saradevil@saradevil.net)
on Apr 04, 2006 - 03:33 PM
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Daria,
This like everything else can be gotten through. Do you feel the meds are working for you now, and helping to even out everything?
Getting any kind of clinical diagnosis of not being complete right all around is freaky and doesn’t do wonders for anyone, but it is sometimes nice to know that there is actually something going on and that you can do things for it.
I think your decisions about your future will end up working out the way they are supposed to, even if you doubt right now that you are making the best decisions. Transition periods are always the worst and it doesn’t help when you know you’ve got something going on inside your own brain and body on top of that.
Group therapy can be really wonderful. College for me, in many ways, was nothing but four years of group therapy. Did wonders for me, I tell ya!
I hope it all goes well. Keep us posted.
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Re: Coming to Terms
by Kira on Apr 07, 2006 - 10:39 AM
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I went through a similar period a few years back, and it really opened my eyes to how thin the line between "relatively happy, well adjusted person" and "near suicidal" can be.
I've always heard that when you have a relationship that ends, it often takes at least half the time the relationship lasted to get over it. I think it may be true for traumatic experiences as well. Give yourself some time, and don't be too hard on yourself.
You're an amazing person. Big hugs.
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Re: Coming to Terms
by blackrose (-)
on Dec 22, 2007 - 07:09 PM
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Daria,
I have just only made arrangements myself for the same thing.It's becoming too much for me to handle.I'm getting diagnosed next week.I've got a feeling it may be more than clinical depression though.I'm a little scared,but I'd rather know what's going on for certain than to be stuck in limbo.Please take care of yourself.I'll be waiting to hear how you're doing.
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