This was a week of great moaning and shortness of breath. There was screams of passion and heart palpitations. There was lots of time spent under covers with no desire for a normal routine. If I never left the bedroom again, I'd be perfectly content. Nothing like a bout of depression, eh?
The blues seemed to hit me like an exploding bomb this week, but of course it was a long time coming. Working, house duties, caring for two children and a husband - it was bound to happen. Some of the factors were my fault - not scheduling enough down time for myself. Some of the factors were Rex's fault - not being a natural caregiver. And some of - a decent part of it - had to do with giving up Zoloft.
Having been on "my happy pills" for ten years, I had decided that my life was in great shape. My husband and I had worked out our differences, my kids were on auto pilot, and I had some time to myself while the kids were at school. Besides, anti-depressants are notorious libido killers. It was fabulous to finally have a bit of a sex drive back.
So, without telling my doctors, I slowly decreased my dosage. When I ran out of pills, I just didn't reorder them. "I'm fine!" I bragged to myself and the world. "I can cure my chemical imbalance with exercise and prayer - with positive thinking." And it worked for a while. But then it stopped. And everything came crashing down on me.
I'm writing this post in what's supposed to be a sex column to let some of you know that you're not alone if you feel isolated despite having a lot of people around you. Yes, some people abuse anti-depressants, but there's a good portion of folk out there that have been depressed for a pretty long time and don't realize the cure is pretty simple. Combined with some cognitive therapy (retraining negative thoughts into positive ones - I'm taking a class soon) the outlook for depression is quite positive. It won't take away any negative circumstances in your life, but it can help you make more logical choices about what you want to do about them.
For me? I am talking to as many people as will listen. I am seeing an old therapist. I am writing in my journal and reading positive stories. And I'm holding onto the faith (and my burgeoning faith) that this period will get better. Why? Because I'm taking the steps toward it. And you can, too.
Posted by Andrea Frazer
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