i'm not sure the the exact day i hit rock bottom but i remember calling my best friend and just cried - hysterically before I called her. I had no idea why i was crying, i felt alone, i felt lost, and i felt abandoned (but i don't know by who) Lost cause is what i felt like. i even remember reaching out to my sister that same weekend which is something i don't do, but we went had lunch and it felt good to talk to her about how i was feeling, my views on life, my views on depression and medicine, and my views on faith and religion. i'm very thankful my sister and best friend were there for me that day.
after that weekend i decided that i couldn't fix myself. i have tried for years to make it better, to not need medicine, telling myself that i didn't need meds to make me feel normal. i struggled for years about anti-depressants, and i think mainly because i was put on them at such a young age due to various things that had happened in my life that caused me to need them, but once i hit a certain age i stopped taking them and assumed i was cured. depression runs in my family and even though for years i said it was all in their head today i seem to see things a little bit more clearer. my grandmother is bi-polar, my mother and sister both suffer from depression and for years i would say everyone that w as on anti-depressants had issues that they should have worked out in their head, they caused their illness, they caused this ridiculousness. my mother hated to hear my talk about it and it saddened her because she knew that slowly it was eating away at me.
i've had a lot of curve balls thrown at my over the years that most would never know about but my mother saw it and i was blinded by my own stubbornness. After my weekend meltdown and a few nights of severe anxiety attacks i went to the dr. There was one night i had such a severe anxiety attack i thought i was having a heart attack. it scared the shit out of me, enough to get my ass to the dr. After questioning and testing i rated a little over the normal expectancy for depression, at this point i wasn't shocked. more less scared, scared to accept i had this and that the only way for me to overcome it was to take medicine i had for so many years put down and ridiculed people about. i had just became a statistic, a percentage. After my first month i saw changes, it was shocking to me that after just 4 weeks on a low dosage i became to feel like the rachel i lost a really long time ago and maybe one i never knew that existed. almost 8 weeks in now on a little higher dosage i still feel better, my sleeping is still not the best but insomnia is another thing that happens to be an issue with me.
so why do i write this? why do i tell whoever it is that reads my blog? why not? talking about it, writing about it, releases some stress for me.this is who i am. i want no pity or expect to be given any. i honestly would rather not talk about it, only write about it, lol. i am not ashamed as before, this was yet another small chapter in this 'so called life of rachel'. i'm more proud today of who i am, what i've accomplished and what my future holds than i ever have been and if that is due to anti-depressants than i proudly say thank you and raise my glass (cheers) and hope that if anyone ever felt the way i felt and somehow came across my blog that maybe it could make a decision a little easier hearing from the person that had the same doubts would be awesome. ive always been a huge walking contradiction but for the first time i changed something about me and it was probably the smartest thing i could have done for me and for my daughter.
