Depression

I feel like I don’t have the right to complain that I’m tired. I haven’t even been awake for five and a half hours yet. I’ve done nothing that would make me tired. It’s just my depression that’s causing this. And I feel like that’s not a good enough reason to allow me to complain.

A couple nights ago my depression decided to tell me that everyone was just sticking around to be nice and eventually they’d all show their true colors and abandon me. I cried. I knew it wasn’t true, but nothing in me would let me believe anything but what the depression was telling me. It was awful.

And in gearing up to go do a third session at a training weekend with my adoption agency, I feel like all my emotions are surfacing and not going away. The feelings of shame and embarrassment projected from my dad. The grief from placing my daughter two and a half years ago.

But this training is also bringing back happier things too. The overwhelming love the first time I held my daughter in my arms in the hospital. The amazing calm I felt the first time I met the couple I’d chosen as her parents. The smiles all the pictures of her elicit. The heartwarming little hugs from her when we visit every six months.

But this depression isn’t just all the adoption emotions. There’s more to it than that.

It’s the overwhelming feeling that no one cares.
It’s being ready for bed at 8:15, but knowing that you didn’t do anything to make you that tired.
It’s knowing that these feelings aren’t real, but being unable to deny them.
It’s wanting to cry at any point and not knowing why.
It’s no longer caring about the things you used to love and enjoy.
It’s isolating yourself away from everyone, including your family.
It’s sitting on your bed indecisive about what to do because you’re going numb.
It’s not sleeping at night.
It’s sleeping all through the morning and waking up at five minutes till noon.

The list could go on, but I’m going to stop there. This is just a little insight into what’s been going on in my head the last week or so.

A Month In…

So, I’ve been taking these medications for a month now. I just upped the Zoloft dosage from 25mg to 50mg this past Thursday. Honestly, it may be too soon, but I think the 50 is better than the 25. Even my grandmother has noticed that I seem to be more myself than I was before I started the medication.

Which I suppose is the goal of being on medication.

It hasn’t been an easy journey, but it’s definitely not one that I regret starting.

I didn’t think I wanted to be on medication, but I’m realizing that it’s not the end of the world. Sometimes it’s a necessity, and it’s not something that should be looked down on.

I was afraid of judgement and feared the shame I would feel when people found out I was on anti-depressants. However it’s been the opposite. Everyone I’ve told has been supportive and encouraging regarding taking meds again.

When you go three or four weeks between appointments, it can be difficult to remember how you were feeling and what side effects you noticed in the beginning. My solution to this was setting up a notebook with medications and dosages in the back, side effects and emotional stuff in the front. It’s not something I write in everyday. Only when I can be bothered, or when it seems like there’s something worth recording.

There’s not much to record when you’re home alone most days and don’t interact with people. But sometimes that’s when you realize that things need to be changing.

The last three/four days I’ve been feeling weird, but I have my psychiatrist appointment on Friday. So I guess that I should be putting this in my notebook so that I can bring it up with the nurse.

Ugh.. I suppose I should post this since I’ve been working on it for a week now..

Hopefully there will be another update soon after my appointment.