I have always been a big believer in medication. I think it probably stems from my migraines starting at such a young age. I recall knowing the different between Tylenol and Advil by the time I was 10. Taking medicine has never been an issue for me. Accepting the fact that I need medication has been an issue.
I honestly don't remember when I started taking anti-anxiety meds. I know it was during college, and I think it was probably sophomore year - when my depression hit it's all time low up until that point. I remember thinking to myself, "This isn't a big deal. Thousands of people take Prozac." I don't remember the amount I started taking, but I took it for about a year. I can't recall if anything changed while I was taking the medication, but I vividly recall the first time I stopped taking it. Despite my knowledge of the drug, I quit cold-turkey. A few months later I spiraled and had a nasty bout of depression. I went back on and off the medication a few times over the next few years.
Oddly enough when my father passed away I stopped taking everything. I think I was trying to give myself a reset. At some point I started taking a low dose of Prozac again, and up until last December it seemed like it was enough. Since January I've been talking with my therapist a lot about medication. While I was in the hospital they changed my prescription to Zoloft. After about 4 weeks (the required time it takes to feel the full effects), I remember feeling like a bubble had popped around my head. I felt lighter and more comfortable just being. Then I had an allergic reaction, and had to stop taking it. I was super disappointed. I had briefly experienced what life was like for someone without the cloud of depression hovering over them all the time.
I went back to Prozac as it had always worked in the past, but this time my dose was increased. Towards the middle of this summer I started noticing a change. I wasn't as emotional, I was handling situations much better. I also noticed a change in my relationship with Justin. I love my husband.
It seems silly to think that after 10 years together I wouldn't love him, because, of course, I've loved him from the very beginning. We were lucky in that "love at first sight" thing actually held true for us. But over the summer I started becoming overwhelmed with my love for him. I would just randomly start thinking about him during the day and get happy. Our relationship became easier; not that it was ever difficult, but I know my own constant wave of emotions was rough for us to deal with at times.
Over the past two weeks I had to switch my medication dose again. This time it needed to be decreased because I was again showing symptoms of a very rare reaction - Serotonin Syndrome. Luckily my doctor listened to me when I shared my symptoms and recommended I take a few days off and then lower the dose. For those of you that don't know, Prozac builds up in your body over time; so not taking it for a few days is sad to be safe. I had a rough few days. At first I thought it was because of the change in medication, but now I think it may have been more emotional than physical.
For the second time in my life I was taking the right medication for my disease. I was feeling really great, and then I had to stop. I started getting really frustrated. I hated that I needed this little pill to make me happy. I started thinking of all the jokes about people taking their "happy pills" every morning. I started thinking about the people who make remarks about "Prozac Nation." I started to feel like another statistic. It bothered me that I was so dependent on this medication. It bothered me so much that I thought about stopping it all together; after all, I've been feeling a lot better lately. It bothered me to the point of leaving another mark on my body.
It wasn't worth it.
It was not worth hurting myself just because I didn't want to swallow a pill. A diabetic takes insulin; a person with depression takes Prozac. There is no different between the two. For some with either disease they cannot live without the support of their medication. It all goes back to accepting the idea that depression is a disease.
I mentioned in a previous post that depression has been the topic of a lot of articles lately, given the recent events related to Robin Williams. I'm glad that people are talking about depression. I'm glad that Huffington Post has shared numerous articles about what it feels like to have depression, and who people can help those who have this disease. What I would really like to see more of are articles that talk positively about medication.
I'm not here to argue about who's right and who's wrong. There are pros and cons to putting chemicals into your body. What I hope is that in the same way people are becoming more accepting of mental illness, they also become more accepting of those who need medication to help fight their illness.
I am grateful that taking Prozac has allowed me to feel true love again; to feel all emotions in their truest form, without the added weight of depression. I'm grateful that I have people in my life who support my decisions and who do not judge me for what I need to do to stay healthy.
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