Giving in...

I saw a doctor on Monday--one I've never seen before. I went in mostly because I was in the middle of a REALLY bad asthma attack that was illness/stress induced. But I left the office with my inhaler prescriptions, antibiotics, steroids, and fluoxetine.

Yes, I am back on the happy pills. And this time not just for a six month trial period, or a little 3 month pick me up. The doctor wants me on them for at least two years.

I was doing ok. Exercise was enough to keep my mood, if not good then at least, well, stable. But exhaustion has slowly been creeping up on me again. And short temper. And slight hints of paranoia. And the occasional unshakable feeling of dread. Then the guilt. And then, last Friday night, after I dropped the kids off for a sleepover at their beloved Aunty Cathy's house, the almost irresistible urge to drive my car at full speed in front of oncoming traffic. That's when I knew.

It's a scary feeling--that urge to do something that you know your rational mind would never allow. And yet, at the same time, comical. Like those little cartoon devils and angels, sitting on your shoulders and telling you what to do.

I had the same problem after Dylan was born. I was deep down in a pit of antenatal depression, and that little devil would whisper suggestions to me--that I go get a butcher knife when it was the middle of the night and I was sleep deprived with a crying newborn. That I push him and his Mamas and Papas travel system in front of the bus.

Wow, writing this all down makes me feel like even more of a mess...

Bottom line is, I never actually did any of those things. My rational mind was enough to stop me. My moral compass never faltered, even though my weak physical brain did. Does. And crazy is as crazy does. I'm not crazy. I'm just sick. There's a difference.

Anyway, this is all sounding terribly melodramatic. It goes against my strict "no drama" policy. I'm back on antidepressants, and I'm there for the foreseeable future. And I just have to learn to be ok with a (totally legal) drug dependency. But even though I have heard all the arguments--you wouldn't turn down insulin if you were a diabetic, would you?--and I agree with all of them, it doesn't make it any easier to acknowledge that dependency. I don't even like having to use maintenance inhalers for my asthma, let alone a mood altering substance!

But the one thing that scares me most of all is that I will lose it with my kids. I don't mean I worry that I will get angry with them when they have been naughty. I mean snapping over something completely silly. Because my mood is fine if it only affects me. But when I am mean to my kids, it becomes a problem. I adore those little monkey bums. I'd do anything for them. Including take antidepressants for the next 12 years until they both move out.

Already it feels like the meds are working. I am definitely having a physical reaction to them (oh boy, am I ever!). The worst has passed. I am feeling less fragile. And a LOT less like driving my car in front of a big lorry.

Don't worry mom--things are looking up. We really are doing fine. This was just a bit of a wake-up call!