Things I Can’t Take Part One: Meds


Things I Wouldn’t Take …or feed to birds


It is alarming to visit my blog and see blank space where my latest post should be. It’s been weeks since I’ve posted. Okay, four months. I’ve been away, descended again to that black country called Depression.  Exhaustion. Apathy. Disinterest. I continued to march, of course, because that is what the Primary Parent and Responsible Lawyer does: March. Keep moving through days that became increasingly monotone, days erratically punctuated with spontaneous fits of tears in inconvenient places. Volleyball games. Grocery stores. The dinner table. Until I found myself on my knees wishing I were anywhere else but in my own life. After a while – like, well, let’s be honest, twenty-five years, of episodes like this – it occurred to me that maybe, finally, I should ask a few helpful souls for assistance. My sister. My doctor. A counsellor or two. All my favourite authors.

I started taking vitamins in the morning and naps in the afternoon. Bought a Litebook for bright light therapy. Renewed my gym membership, though, granted, I have yet to get my behind in the door and my feet on an elliptical trainer. Never mind, I’ll get there. I began walking outside in the sunshine whenever the clouds deigned to part for more than ten minutes at a time. That hasn’t been too often this long, grey winter.

My doctor prescribed anti-depressants which I dutifully bought, then stowed on the highest shelf in the kitchen where they still sit, unopened. Once or twice I’ve taken down the orange plastic bottles, turned them over in my hand wondering, is this really an answer? I don’t know, but I don’t think so. Not for me. Not now. Not yet, even though friends, family members and professionals alike have said: what, are you crazy? If you’re sick, do you not to take a pill to correct the issue? You have a neurochemical deficiency – what’s the problem with medicating that? Well, yes. I can see that. It’s just a tool, my kind young doctor said. It’s not forever. Yes, yes I know. I am just not ready to go down that road yet, no matter how short a trip it might be.

Because there is this: it always comes back to me, and what am I doing anyway?  If I see clearly that certain circumstances in my life cause me grief or discomfort, do I not try to change those first, instead of medicating the pain away? Why not, as hard as it is from here, try something – anything – and see what happens? See if moving my body doesn’t improve my mood, even just a little? I could be wrong; but what if I’m right? And then there’s this: What do I need to Give Away? The question I’ve stopped asking myself lately. It’s time to start asking again, writing down the answers I find and posting them here. Right?

Yes that’s it! Write.

Sigh, its good to be back.

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