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Feb. 23rd, 2002 01:34 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
asherisThis is a response to a post by ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
serpentfeuer. It got to be much longer than I'd expected, so I decided to post it here and link from there.
I have something called dysthemia. It's a mild biochemical imbalance that leases a person prone to depressive episodes. While most forms of depression last weeks or months, or perhaps a couple of years, current research is finding that dysthemia is measured in decades, and onset is often associated with puberty, menopause, and pregnancy.
In my case, it also created an unbearable shyness, and a heart-deep inner frustration because I knew I wasn't the person I'd been before- but it set in at puberty and with everything ELSE that's going on then, I never saw it; nor did the people around me. Then again, that was the early-mid 80's, and depression was still misunderstood, sometimes a "dirty little secret"; symptoms weren't publicized as they are now.
Add in a tendency to obsessive-compulsive issues when it's really bad, and a gift for beating myself up over things that were long past- sometimes YEARS past, and, well, I was usually unhappy, beating myself up, frustrated and prone to irrational outburts of rage (only person likely to get hurt was me), almost completely lacking in self-confidence, and a lot of other Really Fun stuff.
Back in '90, a counselor recommended I see a psychiatrist to look into the possibility of medications for a depressive episode I was going through. I fought it, having recently seen my cousin's bad experience with Prozac- it was just too scary to contemplate. Then there was the stigma of it, which I wasn't willing to deal with.
In '96, after a long-term relationship ended, I was seeing a counselor to try to organize my thoughts. (There were other problems as well- lingering injuries from a car accident among them.) I could barely make myself get out of bed; I swung between insomnia and being unable to wake up. Couldn't focus. The O/C symptoms were worse than ever, as were the rages. I just didn't care anymore. Wasn't suicidal, but had no interest in living, either. I did things (work and such) because I was expected to, or out of habit.
Life was empty in a foggy sort of way. It just was.
When that counselor told me I'd hit all but one of the signs of depression (missed on the suicidal feelings question), and said I needed to see a psychiatrist and be properly evaluated, I went home and cried.
I finally gave up to the knowledge that I had to do something, if I was going to have any kind of life at all.
While waiting for the appointment, I did some research on antidepressants and found they'd made a lot of progress in the intervening years. Talked to my cousin about her later experiences, and started thinking there might be hope.
After the first appointment, he suggested Prozac first, but I still had pretty evil thoughts about it and refused; he then suggested Zoloft. I'd heard about it and it seemed a lot better. We started that, gradually inching up the dose until we found that somewhere between 50-75mg/day was all I needed.
I cannot BEGIN to express how my life changed because of that miracle drug. I started living again. I gained confidence, started to learn new ways of dealing with things, and began the ongoing process of trying to rid myself of old bad habits learned as "defense" measures. Within a couple months, the rages were gone, as though they'd never been.
Eventually I realized that I wasn't looking at it right. I had no problem with being on birth control pills to deal with the fact that my body couldn't come up with any consistency whatsoever in dealing with sexual hormones. How was it any different to need a little help with keeping other brain chemicals at the levels they needed to be at, in order for me to be truly healthy?
I was 26 and suddenly meeting myself for the first time since puberty. I gradually realized I liked myself; that I could learn and do new things without near-paralyzing fear. I used to either avoid situations or throw myself into them so completely I had no chance to escape- was terrified during, and beat myself up about it after.
Five plus years later, I'm still getting to know myself. I've found the courage to follow my heart, even when I knew there was a fair chance it would be broken (it was, damnit- but I'm still here, and I'd do it again); and discovered the courage to search for a part of my soul that was missing, finding it in paganism and a deeper... sense of both the physical and the divine than I'd known existed.
Quieting the demons in my mind (pardon the phrase, but it's the most accurate description I can think of atm) has freed me from my life as a zombie, or on the better days, being just a ghost of myself.
I still can't believe how lucky I was to find the right drug on the first try; I know that's not common. In the intervening years, I've tried going off it (under medical supervision) a few times; it wasn't good. I went back to the miserable fog I'd been in before within a few days to a week, and it was pretty plain that my body hadn't kicked in to produce the missing stuff itself, which was one theory of how this is supposed to work!
The only side effect I've ever really noticed from it, beyond the first couple weeks of adjustment, is what it's done to my weight. I've gained something like 40 lbs in the last 5.5 years, despite periodic attempts to control it through diet and exercise. (When you're eating less and healthier while putting in 3-4 hours of aerobic exercise per week, and BOTH your weight and measurements keep increasing, you know something isn't right!)
I've had the usual tests done to rule out stuff like diabetes and thyroid problems (all perfect, or darn near); in Oct '00 my doctor and I decided to try switching to Wellbutrin- THAT was one of the worst times I've had in my life! One week on it, and I called my doctor in tears (from work) and told her I'd rather weigh 500 lbs than go through another day of that hell. We switched right back to Zoloft, got things balanced out, and I've returned to simply trying to eat right (well, better) and work out reasonably often.
Asserpentfeuer said, "meds or not" is not a decision I can make for anyone else. I know in my heart of hearts that I made the right decision for me. I don't like to think about where I'd be if I hadn't taken that step in '96; to be honest, I'm not sure I'd still be here.
I once worried about a lot of the same things- being zoned out and groggy from the drugs. Since then I've learned that those are often (note: not always) either initial "adjustment" side effects that will go away, a matter of misdiagnosis/ wrong medication/ overmedication, or on rare occasions having something that needs some really whopping nasty serious stuff to counter.
Scientists and doctors have made some amazing advances, especially in the last decade. They've found ways to focus on more specific chemicals and reactions, instead of just dumping in a mix and hoping that the good would outweigh the bad.
I call Zoloft my "miracle drug", because it gave me back my self.
serpentfeuer. It got to be much longer than I'd expected, so I decided to post it here and link from there.I have something called dysthemia. It's a mild biochemical imbalance that leases a person prone to depressive episodes. While most forms of depression last weeks or months, or perhaps a couple of years, current research is finding that dysthemia is measured in decades, and onset is often associated with puberty, menopause, and pregnancy.
In my case, it also created an unbearable shyness, and a heart-deep inner frustration because I knew I wasn't the person I'd been before- but it set in at puberty and with everything ELSE that's going on then, I never saw it; nor did the people around me. Then again, that was the early-mid 80's, and depression was still misunderstood, sometimes a "dirty little secret"; symptoms weren't publicized as they are now.
Add in a tendency to obsessive-compulsive issues when it's really bad, and a gift for beating myself up over things that were long past- sometimes YEARS past, and, well, I was usually unhappy, beating myself up, frustrated and prone to irrational outburts of rage (only person likely to get hurt was me), almost completely lacking in self-confidence, and a lot of other Really Fun stuff.
Back in '90, a counselor recommended I see a psychiatrist to look into the possibility of medications for a depressive episode I was going through. I fought it, having recently seen my cousin's bad experience with Prozac- it was just too scary to contemplate. Then there was the stigma of it, which I wasn't willing to deal with.
In '96, after a long-term relationship ended, I was seeing a counselor to try to organize my thoughts. (There were other problems as well- lingering injuries from a car accident among them.) I could barely make myself get out of bed; I swung between insomnia and being unable to wake up. Couldn't focus. The O/C symptoms were worse than ever, as were the rages. I just didn't care anymore. Wasn't suicidal, but had no interest in living, either. I did things (work and such) because I was expected to, or out of habit.
Life was empty in a foggy sort of way. It just was.
When that counselor told me I'd hit all but one of the signs of depression (missed on the suicidal feelings question), and said I needed to see a psychiatrist and be properly evaluated, I went home and cried.
I finally gave up to the knowledge that I had to do something, if I was going to have any kind of life at all.
While waiting for the appointment, I did some research on antidepressants and found they'd made a lot of progress in the intervening years. Talked to my cousin about her later experiences, and started thinking there might be hope.
After the first appointment, he suggested Prozac first, but I still had pretty evil thoughts about it and refused; he then suggested Zoloft. I'd heard about it and it seemed a lot better. We started that, gradually inching up the dose until we found that somewhere between 50-75mg/day was all I needed.
I cannot BEGIN to express how my life changed because of that miracle drug. I started living again. I gained confidence, started to learn new ways of dealing with things, and began the ongoing process of trying to rid myself of old bad habits learned as "defense" measures. Within a couple months, the rages were gone, as though they'd never been.
Eventually I realized that I wasn't looking at it right. I had no problem with being on birth control pills to deal with the fact that my body couldn't come up with any consistency whatsoever in dealing with sexual hormones. How was it any different to need a little help with keeping other brain chemicals at the levels they needed to be at, in order for me to be truly healthy?
I was 26 and suddenly meeting myself for the first time since puberty. I gradually realized I liked myself; that I could learn and do new things without near-paralyzing fear. I used to either avoid situations or throw myself into them so completely I had no chance to escape- was terrified during, and beat myself up about it after.
Five plus years later, I'm still getting to know myself. I've found the courage to follow my heart, even when I knew there was a fair chance it would be broken (it was, damnit- but I'm still here, and I'd do it again); and discovered the courage to search for a part of my soul that was missing, finding it in paganism and a deeper... sense of both the physical and the divine than I'd known existed.
Quieting the demons in my mind (pardon the phrase, but it's the most accurate description I can think of atm) has freed me from my life as a zombie, or on the better days, being just a ghost of myself.
I still can't believe how lucky I was to find the right drug on the first try; I know that's not common. In the intervening years, I've tried going off it (under medical supervision) a few times; it wasn't good. I went back to the miserable fog I'd been in before within a few days to a week, and it was pretty plain that my body hadn't kicked in to produce the missing stuff itself, which was one theory of how this is supposed to work!
The only side effect I've ever really noticed from it, beyond the first couple weeks of adjustment, is what it's done to my weight. I've gained something like 40 lbs in the last 5.5 years, despite periodic attempts to control it through diet and exercise. (When you're eating less and healthier while putting in 3-4 hours of aerobic exercise per week, and BOTH your weight and measurements keep increasing, you know something isn't right!)
I've had the usual tests done to rule out stuff like diabetes and thyroid problems (all perfect, or darn near); in Oct '00 my doctor and I decided to try switching to Wellbutrin- THAT was one of the worst times I've had in my life! One week on it, and I called my doctor in tears (from work) and told her I'd rather weigh 500 lbs than go through another day of that hell. We switched right back to Zoloft, got things balanced out, and I've returned to simply trying to eat right (well, better) and work out reasonably often.
As
serpentfeuer said, "meds or not" is not a decision I can make for anyone else. I know in my heart of hearts that I made the right decision for me. I don't like to think about where I'd be if I hadn't taken that step in '96; to be honest, I'm not sure I'd still be here. I once worried about a lot of the same things- being zoned out and groggy from the drugs. Since then I've learned that those are often (note: not always) either initial "adjustment" side effects that will go away, a matter of misdiagnosis/ wrong medication/ overmedication, or on rare occasions having something that needs some really whopping nasty serious stuff to counter.
Scientists and doctors have made some amazing advances, especially in the last decade. They've found ways to focus on more specific chemicals and reactions, instead of just dumping in a mix and hoping that the good would outweigh the bad.
I call Zoloft my "miracle drug", because it gave me back my self.
