For years, I hesitated to consider medication for my depression. I had been living a secret life, afraid of the consequences of revealing my true self and the potential fallout on my family, especially my kids. I believed my depression was solely linked to my hidden identity and thought that embracing my authenticity would naturally lift my spirits.
Coming out and embracing my queerness did bring me some relief; being in the closet was suffocating. However, simply living authentically didn’t resolve my struggles. My long-distance partner and I have been together for over two years now, and while being with them brings me immense joy, it didn’t “cure” my depression. Watching my children adapt with remarkable resilience and happiness didn’t heal me either, nor did finding a charming home or thriving in my freelance career.
My depression persisted. Although I was no longer contemplating the unthinkable, it manifested in various small ways every day. I often found it difficult to go to bed, scrolling through social media until late into the night. When I finally put my phone down, a torrent of painful memories flooded my mind, from embarrassing moments in school to conflicts with my teen. Each morning, my first thought was, “When can I go back to sleep?” I even planned my day around naps.
Once an enthusiastic runner and yogi, I lost interest in exercise. My body felt foreign, my muscles weakened, and I craved nothing but carbs—pasta, chips, and buttered bread became my go-to comfort foods, while fruits and vegetables fell by the wayside. I had lost touch with the joy I once found in cooking and spending quality time with my kids. Even social outings with friends felt like a chore, and when the pandemic hit, I welcomed the isolation, joking that I was made for quarantine.
I often found myself in tears multiple times a day, overwhelmed by a wave of emotions—anger, sadness, or even unexpected joy. My chest felt tight, and any form of confrontation triggered panic attacks, sometimes without clear cause. My short-term memory became frustratingly unreliable, leaving me forgetting entire conversations and tasks. I nicknamed my brain “Swiss Cheese,” and my notes app was filled with reminders of things I feared I’d forget. My hair began falling out in clumps.
Despite all this, I still resisted the idea of taking an antidepressant, thinking my depression wasn’t severe enough since I wasn’t suicidal. I assumed I could remedy it with lifestyle changes like vitamins, sleep, and exercise, but I lacked the motivation to implement any of those changes. I fluctuated between wanting to care for myself and feeling utterly indifferent. Yet, I confided in my partner about my struggles, expressing my desire to change.
Eventually, it was my partner who encouraged me to seek professional help. The process of securing my first appointment was slow and filled with small steps: researching doctors, making phone calls, and transferring medical records. Finally, I met with a new physician who listened to my experiences and suggested starting on a low-dose SSRI—10mg of fluoxetine, the generic form of Prozac. I took my first dose on March 23.
Immediately, I noticed improvements in my sleep patterns. I found it easier to put my phone down and fall asleep, waking up before my alarm—something I never thought possible. My memory started to sharpen, and after a few weeks, I realized I hadn’t cried in days. My hair loss returned to normal levels.
As time passed, I experienced other positive changes: spontaneous urges to cook new meals and try different exercises. I had forgotten I used to love these activities, my mind having been shrouded in fog. It was astonishing to see these small desires re-emerge after being buried for so long.
Of course, the SSRI wasn’t without its challenges. Initially, I dealt with dizziness, despite taking the medication at night to mitigate this common side effect. I also experienced physical panic during my morning coffee, leading me to adjust the timing of my medication. Once I switched to taking it mid-morning, those side effects diminished. I still felt mild anxiety in the afternoons, but I embraced exercise as a remedy, which drastically reduced my symptoms. Now, I actually look forward to exercising—something I would have scoffed at months ago.
Perhaps I could have tackled my depression without medication, but when you’re caught in a cycle of despair, it’s nearly impossible to muster the motivation for self-care. Awareness of what you “should” do becomes a heavy burden, adding to feelings of failure. When stress hormones dominate your brain, simply thinking your way to better behavior isn’t enough. You can’t just “fake it till you make it”—the chemical changes in your brain complicate the process.
I share this journey in hopes of reaching others who may relate to my experience. I wasn’t suicidal or even miserable in a conventional sense. It’s only once my brain chemistry stabilized with medication that I recognized how disconnected I had been from my true self.
Those ten little milligrams of fluoxetine have made a significant difference. I’m not a medical professional, so I can’t claim to know what will work for everyone. However, if you suspect something isn’t right, please consult with a healthcare provider. I suffered for far too long without realizing the extent of my struggles, and you don’t need to go through the same thing.
For more insights, check out this blog post, and if you’re looking for authoritative information about related topics, visit here. Additionally, this resource is excellent for those interested in pregnancy and home insemination.
Search Queries:
- how to cope with depression
- benefits of antidepressants
- signs you need therapy
- self-care tips for mental health
- understanding SSRI side effects
In summary, my experience with starting antidepressants has been transformative, offering relief from the persistent shadows of depression. It’s crucial for anyone struggling to seek help and not dismiss their feelings.