Is Oblivion Really Bliss?

Imagine mourning your own life while you are still alive.

My life has been stolen by depression – my whole life. It’s stolen family, friends, jobs, joy, peace, creativity, productivity.

It’s no one’s fault. Even though I inherited this illness from my father and his family, I cannot blame them.

But I mourn my loss.

I once wrote a paper for a college class entitled “The Person.”

It told about a recurrent dream I had, where I was locked inside a clear plastic bubble. I could see and hear what was going on outside, but no one could see or hear me. I would bang on the bubble’s walls and scream, “I’m in here”, but no one responded. The ultimate isolation dream.

That dream pretty much sums up my life. That old rock and a hard place – the deep desire to participate in life in a never ending battle with the paralysis of depression.  Perhaps if I were not so intelligent I would not know what I was missing. Is oblivion really bliss?

DNA Testing Revisited

Taking antidepressants has been an on-going  battle for me, particularly when the illness is in full bloom. I’m not quite sure why but have two hypotheses. One – I think I’m poisoning my body. Two – they feed into the social stigma that I am damaged. Ridiculous. Intellectually I know that I am not damaged but have a serious illness. And even if these meds somehow shorten my life, I’d rather live a short, depression-free life than a long, suffering existence. I often did not listen to my doctor, either by stopping meds too early or taking a lower dosage than prescribed. I think, and hope, that I’ve finally learned my lesson.

I’ve talked about DNA testing in previous blogs, and most recently said the meds recommended for me as a result of these tests were not working. I now know that I had not given them enough time. After being on Pristiq for 3 weeks and Wellbutrin for 3 days, I emailed my doctor, saying I wanted to get off the Pristiq, thinking it was making me worse. I have great respect for my doctor and had made a pact with her that I would not alter medication without discussing it with her. I had broken that pact in the past and not wanting to do that again, I quickly emailed her again saying I would stay on the meds. After all, she is my doctor, so if I’m not going to listen to her, what’s the point?

Yesterday, the depression lifted. It was as if someone threw a switch in my brain. Had I stopped the meds, I very likely would still be in hell. Today is another good day and I hope for many more.

Thank you, Catherine.