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So, I pretty much like being up-front about my mental health. I believe it's something we should talk about so I'm going to talk about it.

Trigger Warnings for discussion of mental health, hypochondria etc.

I'm quite open about the fact that I had a bad time of life a few years ago. I had what I can only describe as a small mental breakdown in the middle of an episode of depression. Ended up dropping out of my job, moving back home, spent like two years on prozac. This was all, like, five years ago?

Lately I've been really anxious.

Just, all the time. I basically scare myself into thinking I'm going to die quite frequently. And when when I'm not convinced that perfectly normal mole is definitely going to kill me, I'm still just wound up. The last six weeks, I don't know why but it got really bad. Like, I stopped doing everything more or less than sitting in the living room under a blanket and doing the bare minimum required to function in my down time.

So I'm going to go back on the prozac for a while.

It's not actually been the easiest decision to make. My experience on it before was quite good but I'm still wary. I think it's with it being a mental thing, the nature of the beast is that I want to write it of as being something unimportant, a temporary quirk that'll go away if I leave it long enough.

The reality of it is, though, that it's starting to impact on how I live my life and I shouldn't have to live like this. Part of my is worried the prozac will stop me writing (I don't know why, it didn't last time. I was writing Hetalia and Glee fic most of the time I was on anti-depressants) but the truth is that the depression is stopping me writing. It's stopping me doing a whole host of normal things I used to enjoy, even spending time alone. And my independence and ability to enjoy my own company are important to me.

So I'm going on prozac again. Just a small dose and hopefully not for long. And I'm going to put myself on the waiting list for counseling.

It's not as bad as it was. I've had a crying jag at work which scared me but in general I'm not bad (I used, the first time, to lock myself in the toilets at work a couple of times a day just to cry) and I'm pretty good at bullying myself into some semblance of functioning. That almost makes it harder to make the decision to take the drugs. The first time, I was so low it almost wasn't a decision. The doctor could have handed me anything and I'd have taken it. I went to the doctor because my PhD supervisor took me aside and told me I needed to. So in a way this is empowering as at least I'm making the choice to head it off at the pass, but it also feel like maybe I'm jumping the gun.

The takeaway of this long ramble is that mental health is hard, that depression isn't black or white, always depressed or always fine. And that it's okay to be scared but I'm going to take the fucking drugs anyway and if they don't work I can try something else.


( 2 comments — Leave a comment )
Oct. 22nd, 2015 10:15 pm (UTC)
Oct. 23rd, 2015 03:09 pm (UTC)
*hugs* It's really good that you're taking the initiative to get help when you know you need it. It took a lot of coaxing from a friend before I could manage to go to a counselor a few years ago.
( 2 comments — Leave a comment )