This is unrelated to Hurricane Flossie - I've actually battled depression my entire life, and have had another bout recently, brought on by multiple factors. I was treated successfully in 2002 (from severe depression) with antidepressants and therapy. I'm a big believer that that combo works best.
I went in today, after waiting three weeks (2 weeks from onset I made the appointment), and sought treatment. This was the first time I met my doctor here, and he is fabulous. Most doctors maybe give you five minutes of their time, but this guy was with me for about half an hour, and we casually discussed my history, depression, and treatments. He even told me I could email him for free! It's actually part of my health care plan, and boy is that a fantastic idea. Needless to say, I am thrilled with my healthcare provider (Kaiser Permanente).
Well, I wasn't planning on blogging about my depression, but when my doctor and I were discussing it, the subject of stigma came up. It took me years to seek treatment originally because of the stigma (and the cost too), and when I finally did, it seemed completely ridiculous that I had waited so long. I never needed to feel that way. That's why it only took me 3 weeks (doctors won't call it depression unless it lasts for 2 weeks or more). What this doctor reminded me, when we were talking about stigma, is that depression is a disease as physically rooted as say diabetes, and can be just as fatal if not treated. Yet diabetes is safe to talk about (and those who have need to talk to others about it for their own safety). It's the same thing with depression, but instead of being a problem of the pancreas, it is a problem of the brain the organ (as opposed to the mind).
So that's why I'm blogging about it. You may still think it is TMI (and there is more to come about that), but I wanted to do my small part in ridding the world of that stigma.
Today I started my prescription of antidepressants, and hopefully soon I will start therapy (I can't remember if it is called talk therapy or spoken therapy, but if you have seen Good Will Hunting, you get the idea. It's like that. Well, actually it's the therapist yawning while you spill your heart out, but it's still wonderful because you get to talk to someone who is trained not to judge you, and only listens and never talks about themselves, and when they do offer up advice, on rare occasion, it is usually something useful to steer you towards an epiphany so you can get past the crap you think about over and over and bogs you down and you can't get past. Wow.
That's the meds by the way. If you are one of the people I see in person here in Hawaii, you may notice a change in my behavior. I'm very giddy (should wear off in a few days), I'm very chatty, much more boisterous, and I'll make you laugh. This isn't quite the real me, but closer than the last few months (came to the realization that this probably started with the traumatic event of my move, the culture shock, and the absence of my best friend Sam - while we've lived in the same vicinity, I've been depression free (Iowa, Mesa) - so I think I will give our weekly mutual downloads at Starbucks a lot of credit for my mental wellbeing (that and the coffee gods)). This only worsened to depression in July after a couple of coincidental traumatic events (namely, finding out that the last bus to my development leaves at 9:15pm, throwing off my lifestyle completely, then finding out that, even though I can afford a car, I can't wheedle a parking space out of the development, but that's just the tip of the iceberg). These external things pounded me, and it was too much; I've been snarly and crying and surly and miserable and unhappy and unfocused and achey ever since. It was enough.
I'm working on resolving a lot of stuff to make my life better (I am in "Scarlett O'Hara - I will never be hungry again!" mode). That's an important tool I discovered in New York, when I had severe depression and got rid of it myself by writing up a list of all the things I wanted from my job (at Avnet), presented it to my boss (who said 'no' to every item), and quit. I promptly moved into my car and went on an awesome roadtrip around the country, couchsurfed in AZ for awhile (had a blast), then landed an incredible job in Iowa (EAI), which by the way, fulfilled every item on my list, including a glimpse of natural light (the place where I am currently working, Blue Lava, also fulfills every item on that list, and I can see the vast expanse of the Pacific, hahaha).
Okay, so here is some TMI. The medication has some side effects (other than excessive giddiness). There is the nausea, which I don't remember from the last time, but vitamin C in pill form gives me nausea when it didn't just a year ago. What is worse though, is that my skin smells. I had forgotten about that. I brushed my hand against my face tonight, was repulsed, and my first thought was that I had touched something left unclean for far too long on the bus (a railing or the seat or something). But the smell was vaguely familiar, and then I remembered it. My skin smells faintly of rotting vinyl. Fortunately, the smell doesn't radiate far (I hope; I can't smell it unless my nose is touching my skin), but I apologize in advance if you get a whiff, which you shouldn't. Hopefully. I've got some raspberry lotion to mask it, so if you smell that, then you know that I'm feeling self conscious about smelling like someone's dusty LP collection.
I had better stop. I've got more exciting news to blog about, which you will probably already have read, even though I have yet to write it. Hmmm. "Things that make you go hmmm." See? Way too giddy. But I'm happy! Now you can tell how happy I am by the length of my blog posts. Size does matter. Enough KitKat! Enough. How embarrassing, now you know one my nicknames for myself. Okay, seriously, gotta stop writing. Hehehe.
