It doesn’t sound real when I put it so bluntly.  It seems like someone else’s life.  But it is my life, and that life has been creeping slowly but surely into a hole that I finally decided I couldn’t pull myself out of alone.  Since last winter, I’ve been having more bad days that good.  I was anxious all the time, over things that weren’t worth stressing about.  When plans changed at the last minute, regarding anything, it would freak me out so much I would cry–over unimportant things.  I couldn’t focus on my schoolwork, and it suffered.  I didn’t feel like going out, I didn’t feel like doing any of my hobbies or socializing.  Pretty much the only thing I found enjoyment in was cooking and working in the garden, but most times, my mental paradigm was covered in a fog of desperation, a feeling that nothing would ever change or get better.

Finally, finally, Chris sat me down and said he really thought I needed to talk about this with my doctor.  I was sure my problems were based in anxiety.  So I went to my GP, who determine that my anxiety was more of a symptom of depression.  She started me on anti-depressants in June.  This has helped tremendously.  I still have anxiety and get sad, but those desperate days only happen once in a while, like a “normal” (ha!) person.  I’ve been using different strategies to manage my anxiety (like, oh, you know, cutting down from a full pot of coffee every day, for starters) that have really, really helped.  I feel like myself again.

Unfortunately, better living through chemistry comes with a price.  My insurance has so far denied both scripts for anti-depressants my doctor has prescribed for me.  I have been functioning on samples from my doctor.  When my doctor gets back from vacation on Monday, she will have to write me another script for yet another med and we will hope that it is covered.  I will try that script, and if it doesn’t work, we try another drug my insurance company will cover.  After (we hope) six weeks on each, I can then get clearance for coverage for the initial drug my doctor prescribed, the one that has worked so well, the one that my body has adjusted to.  Until then, I will play Russian roulette with my mental and emotional health.  Thanks, Coventry.  I hope you get fucked by HCR.

I share this for you for several reasons, none of which is to garner your sympathy or, God-forbid, your pity.  The most important is that I have found, through my own experience, that people are hesitant to talk about mental health issues, period.  There is still a stigma attached to depression, anxiety, and other common issues.  Almost every time I’ve opened up to someone about what is going on with me, they themselves have experienced a similar mental health problem or they have a close friend or family member who has.  Why is it, then, that there’s still shame? I myself kept this in from almost everyone besides a few close friends, Chris, and my parents, because I felt guilty.  I have a good life, a should-be-happy life, a life of relative privilege.  What do I have to complain about?  But this has nothing to do with that.  I am sick.  I need help to get better, and my doctor and I have decided that the help I need involves medication.  For myself, I must talk about what is wrong so I can feel okay about it and hopefully so others can be okay with their own mental health issues.  Because I’ve realized this is much, much more common that I thought.

I am not good at dealing with serious things.  My coping mechanisms are largely based in humor and sarcasm.  That’s just how I roll.  So I hope that me telling, well, all of teh intarwebz, this doesn’t change how my friends, both in real life and online, treat me.  I mean, I can’t tell you how many depression jokes I’ve been dying to drop in the last few months but haven’t.  This could be a comedy goldmine.  I am still me, and I’m generally not treated with kid gloves, so I don’t expect that to start now.  This will not turn into the Pity Party blog.  I just felt as though, with the weekend I had, now was as good a time as any to put this out there.  I will promptly return to snark and rants.

So that’s that.  Can we please talk about reality television now?