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Writer's pictureJenna

Anti. Depression.

Hi, I've been MIA around here. I'm guilty of not knowing what to say so I've just been quietly observing. I'm not apologizing , just stating facts; its been what I have needed to do and sticking my head in the sand is one way I cope, healthy or not. Everyone seems to be blaming 2020 so Ill get on board and say this year has been one for the books, its presented me with weird and hard opportunities to learn.


One of those lessons for me had to do with confronting some very raw feelings that come along with life and the business of living it. After weaning for weeks and weeks with the help of healthcare professionals, I stopped taking my antidepressants. I arrived at the decision to do so because I wanted and needed a change in my emotional life.


Part of me thinks why would you pick this year, when the atmosphere of the world is so uncertain and the terrain so unfamiliar? Why not wait until things have calmed down a bit and life feels more normal? The next thought : when will that be exactly? My feelings have felt like the bully at school, I was terrified to encounter them in their undiluted form. There will never be a day I show up to school and the bully wont be there lurking around the corner. If, by the off chance, they are absent one day they have to come back at some point. I am just counting down the minutes until they do instead of enjoying my day off. In other words, my anxiety, fear and anger are always going to be there just below the surface.


I had been on a medication that was extremely numbing ever since I came out of the medical coma that halted my world a few years back. I have always talked openly about how I could. not. cry. The number of times tears actually slid down my cheeks were few and far between. I could sit in a church service or wedding with no tears brimming up in my eyes, I could have an argument with someone and say oh well, I could stay composed enough to offer words of encouragement at my sisters funeral. I could move from one event to the next with little to no emotional processing. I enjoyed having machine like capabilities while they lasted.


However, I came to realize a pattern that this numbness created. Numbness always wears off at some point or the pain surpasses the threshold of tolerance. I picture myself as a vat or container of sort, each grievance, each sadness adding a drop to the well of emotions. It will rise to the top and spill over at some point. The medicine extended the walls of my heart higher and higher; but like the people building the tower of Babel I was naive to think it could reach to Heaven. I still had overflow, but now since it had been stored for a longer time it was more of a tidal wave instead of a little spill to mop up with a rag. In less creative terms, I would have one or maybe 2 days a month where I would cry uncontrollably, rage, be hyper sensitive and moody and the other 28 days feel absolutely nothing. I sound like such a joy to be around, no? My emotions weren't spread out in a tolerable way over a course of days but rather they all came at once.


So naturally, I have cried rivers through the weaning process, tears my heart has stored up for the years of feeling nothing. It has felt cleansing and terrifying all at once. You read about how good crying is for you (endorphins!) but in the midst of it I felt I just wanted it to stop. The pain in my chest, the rapid breathing, the tightness of my jaw, all of it just hurt too much. I am a firm believer in 'the best way out is through' but when you are in the middle and nowhere close to coming out the other side, you start wondering if you ever will. When you aren't used to feeling all the things so frequently it all feels melodramatic, but serious nonetheless.


Then there are days when I feel perfectly fine. That is the funny thing about mental states of anguish, they are fleeting. Here one day, gone the next and I'm left thinking, "What was I so upset over again?" Of course, trauma does alter our psyche and there's work to be done and things to accept but that's not a can of worms I want to open in this post. (side bar: I'm really kind of sick of the word 'trauma,' accurate as it may be. its such a buzz word, at least for the last 5 years of my life, so much so I almost want to call it something else, any ideas anyone?) It does play a part though.


I am thankful for my years on my medication. I wouldn't change them. Time I spent separated from such intensity helped me stay positive while my body had a chance to heal. It helped me look at things logically instead of expending so much time and emotional effort digging myself out of the rabbit hole of pain my overthinking often lands me in. I learned self care rhythms and acquired tools I could never seem to grasp before. I came to appreciate the bland parts of life instead of loathe them, realizing that boring things (like sleep ) help balance out the flavor. Like the celery that comes with hot wings, or the tart cranberry sauce on the rim of your thanksgiving plate: boring but necessary. (Non-food people may miss this analogy entirely, sorry non food-people).


Our minds can become addicted to chaos. I know this about myself and don't love that it is one of my battles to fight. I struggled with mental health issues for years pre-trauma and that was a big reason I stayed on the meds for the amount of time that I did. Again, I liked feeling in control, I liked that I could mostly move through life without my pesky emotions.


Currently, I have been off my meds about a month. I thought I would never be brave enough to do it but with support and me realizing that feelings wont actually hurt me, I did it.


And now I'm writing about it.


With sharing this I have to let go of wondering if people will pity me or judge this way or that. I have to part with the control I love to think I have. Its all an exercise in being ok with me, whether I like it or not. Acceptance is such a humbling yet freeing tool. I am trying hard to be friends to be with reality. We don't always get along but when we do, its a good time.

Note: this post is not for or against medications. I am however anti depression, anti anxiety (not in a stigmatizing way) or even in the way you be against cancer or racism. I have come to see these states as warnings, check engine lights if you will, and one hundred and ten percent a normal part of existence. The decision to medicate or not is an extremely personal and individual choice. Also I am NOT an expert in any way, shape, or form, my aim here is simply to share my experience.

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