Depression is something I came acquainted with about a year ago. At least I think it was a year ago and I think it's depression. There's this tiny little detail in my family's medical history, that might affect me, and it's bipolar disorder. It means that you're depressed but you also get mania, and both of them are in their own way dangerous.
If I would have that (since I am not a shrink nor can I at this moment honestly say anything), I might have had it for some time now. Who knows.
And now I'm losing my trail of thought.
Before I got depressed, and I was getting more and more sure about what it was, I had had a quite average mental health. Nothing really surprising in that section.
Anyway, since depression is becoming a common epidemic, I thought I should write something about my own experience in that matter. Unfortunately I'm still right in the middle of stabilizing it, so I can't really give any story about defeating it.
All I can tell you is that when you start to suspect that you might have it, you need to get help right away. It's not something that goes away by itself. I know there's a group of people, a generation, that doesn't believe in psychology, mental disorders and medication (my father is one example of that), but that kind of thinking makes you your number one enemy - and enemy to every person you come in contact with. You're going to become a danger to yourself. And maybe even to others.
I got help, I got to wrestle with one doctor about the subject of needing therapy, but now I got an appointment for some kind of clinic thanks to another doctor.
A part of me is relieved and anxious about getting to pour all my heavy burden's out in the open, but I'm also a bit skeptical about what kind of person will be there to listen my worries. I've had an experience once about talking to one therapist who seemed to be really indifferent and/or bored and maybe a bit annoyed. That would be the perfect, fitting reaction to a cashier, who had to listen to some customer go on and on about their life, while the cashier was trying to go to a lunch break. But I don't want to talk with any medical professionals who look like they don't want to hear it. It was a really weird experience. I guess I feel a bit scared of running into another therapist who's like that. I can understand why some professionals would get tired at their work, but it's not good for the patients and customers to have their experience tainted with such indifference. I don't want to be a trouble to anyone nor do I want to waste anyone's time. So I'd rather keep my problems to myself, if there's no one willing to listen and care.
Still, my bad experiences aside, therapy is always better than remaining medicated. Medication still is a pure relief. Imagine something stretching your mind to the breaking point and something just lets it go before it breaks. It's relief and bliss. The feeling of normality. There's so many things in life we take for granted. Whether it's warmth, dryness or feeling psychically normal, we don't appreciate those things until they're taken away from us.
Still the medication doesn't affect you forever. I had at the beginning Escitalopram Actavis 10 mg, which I had to change into 20 mg after a few months, when my depression took a turn to worse. But the 20 mg didn't seem to work. It relieved the worst feelings at first, but soon it didn't affect me anymore. I had to change my medication. And the doctor described me Venlafaxin Orion 75 mg. I don't know what part of that medication worked, but it did. I've been feeling good for over a month now. I cannot remember what was the maximum effect-span until it stops working as well, but I guess this story is something that will continue over time. I'm hoping for a happy ending. All the people who have been depressed and known to me have gotten better in time, so there's always hope if you don't give up on yourself.
(Copyrights belongs to yours truly)
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