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srsbsnsrunner (profile) wrote,
on 5-24-2014 at 6:53pm
Subject: so much to talk about.
So I am pretty sure that my friends are tired of me talking about this so I'm going to talk to you all about it.

It's been pretty apparent from my blog entries that I go through bouts of depression. Not just "ho-hum I'm having a bad day" depression. The curl up, zone out in front of the television, don't get up to pee or shower type depression.
Sometimes it would get so bad that I couldn't get up and function enough to go to work.
I had a seen a therapist for about a year and half before we hit a plateau and decided it was best that I try to continue on my own for awhile. In among all of that I also saw a psychiatrist who put me on anti-anxiety and depression medications. I hated the thought of it. I hated how the medications made me feel. I tried them for a week and said fuck that, I'm stopping these and going to continue soldiering on solo. Which was actually working, somewhat.
What I couldn't figure out was that I wasn't enjoying anything anymore. I was just getting through. My runs had become a daily chore and less of an enjoyment. I ate too much to make up for the dulled taste I was experiencing. Food to me wasn't enjoyable, it was fuel, that was it. I would be chipper at work and then come home and not know what to do with myself.
I was a mess. I had friends start telling me they wouldn't talk to me anymore because I was so pessimistic. Which was tough to hear because I'm usually a look on the bright side of life type of person. I would call myself realistically optimistic.

A friend and I had been talking one day and I told him I felt like utter crap and that I had seriously been rethinking medication. The cognitive behavioral therapy had done what I needed it to do but it hadn't fixed the whole issue. Skills I had learned were being utilized but it wasn't enough. And that was so frustrating to me. I'm a fighter. I don't give up. I power through and keep going, even when shit gets tough. I ran a marathon with a fractured foot for crying out loud! I don't quit.
But I felt like I had failed.

So I made an appointment, it was a month and half away from when I had called. Gave me plenty of time to chicken out.
As the time for my appointment came closer, I got nervous. A voice in my head was saying you don't need medication, you can do this by yourself.
That was stubborn me talking.

I had finally surrendered and faced the truth that I had been running from for nearly 11 years.

While I was sitting in my psychiatrists office she told me that I was worse off than when I saw her almost two years ago.
That devastated me. Because I had been trying so hard to get better. As I told her, I felt like I needed an extra boost. We talked and came to the conclusion I may have to be on medication the rest of my life. Or the same pattern will keep happening. I'll get better then slowly fall back into it and not even notice until it gets unbearable. I'll keep wasting energy on a useless fight instead of enjoying my life and living my life.

I want to live my life. I want to put my energy into running, not having to drag myself out of bed to get dressed.
I want to learn to be a better cook, I want to be able to taste and enjoy the food.
I want to have focus.
I want to be who I'm meant to be.

I am not saying that medication magically will make all these things happen because I know it won't. I want it to give me the possibility to make it happen.

For the past four days I have taken my new medication.

And you know what?

I finally feel like my true self.

I can't explain the feeling of freedom I now have. It's as if a light inside me has finally been turned on.

I was running this morning and the whole run sucked because I was sore. And tired, from getting up last night to see the meteor shower (that I couldn't even see because it was cloudy).
The whole thing was awful. I'll try to explain this the best I can but in my head I felt like I had more power to say "Keep going, it sucks but you can make it." which is what I would say anyway but for some reason it felt like it held more weight.
Only metaphor I can think of is when you're gaming and fighting a monster with just your sword. You fight as hard as you can and maybe you knock almost all of the life out of the monster but it's still crawling along, reaching out with it's dark claws. Your sword breaks. And then you go to bows and arrows and the monster is still clinging to it's last little bit of life. After exhausting all your options, the monster finally dies but you're out of energy because you literally used all your resources to fight said monster.
Now imagine you get a power up on your sword. You still have to fight the monster, but it's easier. It goes down without depleting all your resources and your sword isn't broken.

That's what being on medication is like. It's a power up for my brain.

And goddammit. I love it.
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