Shhh, don't tell!

After nearly two years of almost constant exhaustion, I finally have my energy back. So what is my secret, you ask? A little pill, taken every night after dinner, called fluoxetine.

Yes, that's generic brand Prozac.

I have seriously been struggling with nearly debilitating exhaustion for that long. Combined with the most horrific mood swings and explosions of anger I've ever experienced (and I've even been on fertility drugs!), life has really been difficult. For everyone in the family!

For some reason, I never put the two symptoms together in my mind. It wasn't until the whole situation with the neighbors that I cottoned on to the fact that I was actually pretty depressed and needed to seek professional help. So thanks, J., for bringing that to my attention. I started taking the fluoxetine about 10 days ago.

A few nights ago, I realized that the medication was starting to work. I'd spent the night mostly alone, and it wasn't a particularly easy night. Edith was difficult at bedtime, as she has been for about 6 weeks now, and I just watched a few programs on telly by myself. But as I walked to the bathroom to start my skin and dental cleansing regimen, I realized something. I was content. Like, properly content. For the first time in longer than I care to admit. And apparently, I won't even feel the full benefit of it for 4-6 weeks.

So how do I feel about going on anti-depressants?

Worried.

Embarrassed.

Ashamed.

Relieved.

Obviously, there can be some pretty nasty side-effects from going on SSRI's. It's a concern. I've already experienced two days of horrific side effects that I'll not go into on a public forum. But I should only be on the meds for a maximum of about 5 months, and so far, the benefits outweigh the risks.

I'll be combining the medication with some form of talking therapy, as well. I have a mental health counsellor named Will, who I really like because he is a) super nice and b) Scottish, so he says things like "lassie" and "can'ny." And he's helping me realize that needing a little bit of help is nothing to be embarrassed about. We've only met once, but he pointed out a lot of things to me that I'd not realized before.

Mostly, he made me see that my life IS actually pretty stressful, even though I am a full-time mommy and housewife. The way he described my life to me was a bit of a revelation. And it's not so much stress in the stereotypical sense of the word. More isolation and powerlessness. And I am a control freak, so being helpless IS stressful.

I guess the feelings of shame about my depression and needing the medication stem from a belief that I actually have it much better than so many other people. I feel like I ought to be able to cope with my life, and that my failure to do so is a major character flaw. I'm so privileged to have my life, and not being happy with it seems like self-indulgent nonsense. But what it all comes down to, in the end, is a chemical imbalance and/or deficiency in my brain. And if medication corrects that deficiency, then why shouldn't I take it?

The relief is by far the most overwhelming emotion I am experiencing right now. I feel as though a huge weight has been lifted off my shoulders. I feel like I can start to trust myself with my children again. I feel emotionally stable for the first time in years. I feel like I can breathe.

And I feel like getting out of bed in the morning again, which feels like nothing short of a miracle.