Medication and Depression
She smiles and giggles as she talks about making a space helmet. Mandy tells me about the happenings of her work day. The tricky politics of the banking industry always make for interesting conversation. Tom tells off color jokes and makes quick work of an opening for a pun in the conversation. I cooked a beautiful meal for everyone. Lately it makes for a great task to drown myself in and avoid the tidal wave of feelings that have been haunting me for months now. I sit at the table looking at my great family hearing the laughter and joy from all around and I wonder why I am still depressed.
“WHY IS MY GOAL JUST MAKING IT THROUGH THE NEXT HOUR OR ON A GOOD DAY MAKING IT TILL TOMORROW?”
Why is my goal just making it through the next hour or on a good day making it till tomorrow? For years now I have fought the depression. I always felt like I could conquer it if I just found the next thing to fix. If I had a better job, if I came out, if I started my transition, or a million other things I would be able to right the ship. Now I sit in a house full of joy after working all day for a company that accepted me with open arms, listening to a happy family that I love more than anything and wonder why I cannot enjoy the life I have worked so hard for.
I lay awake at night exhausted. Every time I start to fall asleep, I have another anxiety attack. The anxiety is getting worse every day that passes. Now I get attacks while working or watching TV. They come from nowhere, but manage to stop me in my tracks. There are only so many lies I can tell my boss before he starts thinking I am bringing personal problems to work or my fiancée starts blaming herself because she thinks that she doesn’t make me happy. I have found it hard to write. It starts to give me anxiety thinking about deadlines or if people will read my post or if they will see me as weak when they read it.
So I have reached a very difficult conclusion. It is time for me to take medication in order to battle this. The stigma of medication runs heavy in my head. I hope it doesn’t make me lose myself. I hope it doesn’t turn me into a zombie or worse. I hope that it doesn’t make people I love think less of me. Medication will allow me to step back and work on the base coping skills that I lack. I tried too long to fix this on my own and now I realize for the sake of my family and myself, I need help. Having people who support me and will let me know if it is changing me for the worst makes all the difference in this decision.