Two years ago, my primary care provider came to the
conclusion that he could no longer treat my depression. He had changed my meds a couple of times over
the years, but the cloud just wouldn’t lift and the tears were always at the
ready. So he referred me to a
psychiatrist.
After talking for 30 minutes, I felt a real connection with
the psychiatrist. I felt she was really
listening to me and could almost finish my sentences. She determined that I should be treated for
Bipolar II instead of Depression. I was
unfamiliar with Bipolar II (not-so-high highs/low lows), but trusted her
judgment. I just wanted to feel
better. I needed to find stable
again. So, she changed my meds.
I hate med changes.
You never know what you’re going to get.
I was being weaned off my old meds and geared up on my new meds at the
same time. I didn’t know what to
expect. And let me tell you, it was by
far the worst I’d ever felt. In addition
to being depressed and crying due to a relatively long depressive episode, I
was fighting some pretty severe anxiety.
It was a long three months.
Mere weeks into that transition, it earned me a month off
work. I’d never been put off work before
due to mental health and it scared me. It
wasn’t my idea to take time off; it was my employer’s. I worried about whether I’d be able to go
back. First, I didn’t know if I’d even
be able to. Second, I didn’t know if
they’d let me. So on top of the
depression and anxiety, I was scared. As
a single woman in her 40’s, I was the only one paying my bills and saving for
my retirement. I had to work.
It was during that month off work that I really got to know
my new counselor. He taught me several
techniques for centering my mind and calming my nerves. He was so patient with me. Not only was he a great listener, he was
completely non-judgmental. These are
things I learned to value in a counselor.
He also taught me how to talk about my emotional situation without
getting upset. This was something that
I’d always struggled with. My close
friends and family could now be part of the healing process, where I’d never
really been comfortable with that before.
And they were invaluable.
Over the next few months, we figured out what doses of
medications I needed to be on. I was
feeling really good again, back at work, and relying on the techniques that my
counselor had taught me. I was living
and surviving with my mental illness.
Things weren’t perfect and my depression would come back, but for
shorter durations. I could live with
that.
Then one day I couldn’t give blood because my heart rate was
too high. I started monitoring it and
realized that my heart rate was over 100 beats per minute most of the time. It was time to go back to my primary care
provider. After discussing it with my
psychiatrist, they decided it was my anti-depressant that was raising my heart
rate.
So even though I was doing well emotionally, I had to go
through another med change. Again, I was
scared. I was scared that I’d have the
same fits of depression and anxiety that I’d had before. I was afraid that we wouldn’t be able to find
another combination of medications that effectively treated my depression
without adversely affecting my heart.
And that fear brought out the worst in my depression.
It took time and I felt like a science experiment again. But we found it. We found the combination of meds that kept my
depression at bay. And now, just two
years after my worst bout of depression and anxiety, I’ve been seven months
without a depressive episode. This is
the first time I’ve been able to say that in years. I honestly don’t remember the last time I
went seven months in a row without a depression. And I feel blessed. I feel healthy. I feel good!
I know I’m not healed. I know another
bout of depression and anxiety can come about.
I know it might show itself as a manic episode or a depressive
episode. I know. But right now, I’m enjoying the stability.
