I have been struggling with anxiety and depression since I was about 10 years old. I was also treated for an eating disorder during college and grad school, which had been with me since age 13. I am also freaking out a little bit writing this all down right now, because if you write it down it becomes real. In my mind, anyway. This has been a rough year for me, harder than the past few, for some reason. It seems like every area of my life right now has something I'm choosing to be anxious about: my immediate family, my family of origin, my church, my job, my friends, etc.
I made the decision to ask for help a few months ago, consulting with my doctor about trying medication (which I've only done once before). Why is it so hard to ask for help, to admit that you're not a superwoman and you can't handle everything alone? The first drug was somewhat helpful, but I quickly learned my insurance company wouldn't cover it, as it's not "preferred" (aka - there's no generic alternative). The second drug, which I was asked to stay on for 90 days so my doctor could challenge my insurance company, was terrible. I made it to day 57 and then decided the side effects just weren't worth it. The side effects, for me, have included insomnia, suicidal ideation, and gaining 30 pounds. Yes, you read that correctly, 30. I now weigh the same amount as I did the day I gave birth to my son, which, you know, makes me feel a little anxious!
So on Monday I started Drug #3, which so far has not felt too bad. My doctor warned me that I'd be extremely nauseated the first week, but it's only been about 15 minutes a day of heavy nausea, which I can handle. I am sharing this because I am committed to recovery, to becoming a fully functioning woman who can handle the crap life throws at her with more grace and less uncontrollable weeping. I am also sharing this because I have felt alone, I have felt ashamed, and if sharing this can help one other woman realize that she is not alone, that other people deal with these issues, than it is worth it. It's been hard, but it will get better. I believe it, and I hope you do, too.
I made the decision to ask for help a few months ago, consulting with my doctor about trying medication (which I've only done once before). Why is it so hard to ask for help, to admit that you're not a superwoman and you can't handle everything alone? The first drug was somewhat helpful, but I quickly learned my insurance company wouldn't cover it, as it's not "preferred" (aka - there's no generic alternative). The second drug, which I was asked to stay on for 90 days so my doctor could challenge my insurance company, was terrible. I made it to day 57 and then decided the side effects just weren't worth it. The side effects, for me, have included insomnia, suicidal ideation, and gaining 30 pounds. Yes, you read that correctly, 30. I now weigh the same amount as I did the day I gave birth to my son, which, you know, makes me feel a little anxious!
So on Monday I started Drug #3, which so far has not felt too bad. My doctor warned me that I'd be extremely nauseated the first week, but it's only been about 15 minutes a day of heavy nausea, which I can handle. I am sharing this because I am committed to recovery, to becoming a fully functioning woman who can handle the crap life throws at her with more grace and less uncontrollable weeping. I am also sharing this because I have felt alone, I have felt ashamed, and if sharing this can help one other woman realize that she is not alone, that other people deal with these issues, than it is worth it. It's been hard, but it will get better. I believe it, and I hope you do, too.
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