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.
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