I’m trying a new medication because the SSRI I was on had some… side-effects that I wasn’t too fond of. It’s not going so well.
I’m fully off the SSRI and have been on the new stuff for a month and I don’t think it’s working.
I don’t know how depression affects other people, but for me, it has a few major manifestations, one of which is the inability to control my emotions. I get it – emotions aren’t supposed to be completely controlled. But when I get choked up over every little thing, that’s a problem, too. I can’t watch TV. I can’t listen to music. I can’t not do either of those things because silence tends to leave way too much room for self-reflection. The cross-country flight I was on last week was rough.
The ideation is back, too. Not like it was – the constant thinking of ways to do it or the constant longing to do it – but it’s creeping in at the edges. Little thoughts of “I could just crash this car” or “maybe the solution to my problems – to who I am – is to just end it.” I’m not really serious, but I’ve been thinking about that lately.
I think the reason you’re reading this is because I never got serious. I had a million ways to do that and at least as many reasons to do it, but I knew that when I got serious – that was it. I wasn’t going to fail, and death is as final as it gets. So yeah, I walked up to the edge plenty of times (and hurt myself in other ways), but I never took the plunge (thank god).
Anyway, I hoped that the door had closed on that chapter of my life, not just with the meds, but with therapy and with distance from the affair. I guess not. Oh well, this med isn’t for me. On to the next (hurray!).