This is the story of a woman with recurrent depression and the bad habit of not taking her Prozac for as long as she should. Anyone who has suffered from clinical depression knows how the cycle goes: you feel like caca, you take the meds, you start to feel normal, you stop taking the meds, you feel like caca and round and round we go. That pretty much sums up my life for the last… I don’t know, 18 years? I talk about my depression as openly as I talk about my diabetes; for me, they are both chronic.
My last bout of depression hit as the days started to become shorter and no one needs to be a rocket scientist to know that winter time doesn’t help much when you deal with any mental issues. My problem is that I ignore things for too long until one day everything explodes (or should I say implode?). My home life starts to suffer, my relationships start to suffer and then I walk like a person with a death wish. It really is a time bomb, especially when I have to take care of my diabetes and that is a 24/7 job; I can’t slack.
So when I saw my endocrinologist yesterday and he saw my latest A1C the first question he asked was “How’s your depression?” and I answered “Rampant!” — I’m grateful that I have a doctor who knows I’m much more than just the test results he gets from the lab. And he was more concerned about giving me a referral to a good psychiatrist than doing any medication adjustments. He knows I will not be able to effectively manage my diabetes if I have this huge black cloud over my head making me feel like all I want to do is die because I’m overwhelmed.
Waking up is the hardest part. I look at the day ahead like a haunted forest and I have no map. But I realize that in order to keep going, I just have to keep going. Kind of like Albert Einstein said, “Life is like riding a bicycle. To keep your balance you must keep moving.” And even though I don’t want to keep going, I have the right people in my life to remind me all this is worth it and things will get better. I have people to keep me in check, I have people to make me laugh, I have people to keep me busy.
And then I have my husband, who understands what I’m going through and doesn’t judge even if I become this ubber-bitch sometimes. A husband that asks me to look at the ornaments on my Christmas tree and reminds me that we’re together, that I have people who love me and that there are people I love.
So if Prozac is what I need, Prozac is what I’ll take.