Sunday, March 13, 2011
A Spoon Full of Sugar
Sundays have always been melancholy to me. The ebb of the weekend being over but not quite the full on flow of a new week. It's a quiet middle time I often spend alone. Which leads to rumination and navel gazing at times. Especially when I should be doing something else, like studying for the comprehensive examination I have tomorrow. But why do that when I can sit and ponder the everyday struggle man must endure?
Which leads me to my own struggle-to take antidepressants or not to take antidepressants...
I come from a long line of depressed and anxious people. Hippies too. People who thought if it wasn't bleeding or you weren't dying then you suck it up and get over it (which is funny considering they were all medical professionals). My mom once refused to take me to the ER when I broke my arm. Stating that all they were going to do was wrap it and tell us to make an appointment with the orthopedic guy in the morning. As there was no way he was coming in in the middle of the night just to set a fractured arm. Plus, it was too swollen anyway. So, she put an ace bandage around it, fed me four ibuprofen, and sent me to bed.
If a broken arm didn't merit immediate treatment how could my feelings? Things that don't bleed. That you can't definitively measure or see or quantify. So, I suffered. I dealt with my moods swings. The crushing sadness. The heightened anger. The best ways I could. Which wasn't good. I hurt a lot of people (just ask most of my exboyfriends) including myself.
Because swimming in pancake syrup is hard. You can't see where you're going. You get no where fast. And no one is ever strong enough to pluck you out.
Then one day I just gave up. I'd had enough of the ace bandages and over the counter meds (i.e. alcohol and sex). I decided that what I had was real and deserved some actual treatment. So, I started swallowing pills. And talking about my feelings. Running. Committing to my yoga practice. And eating well.
And just like that it wasn't syrup anymore. It was water. Crystal clear water.
Sure it gets choppy sometimes. And I lose my way. But it feels a hell of a lot better than what I used to fight against.
Do I sometimes look at that pill and roll my eyes? Do I want to be able to do this on my own? Yes. But I've tried that way and failed. And isn't life about joy no matter how you find it? Even if it is in something you have to swallow with a glassful of water everyday?
I promise to be more joyful tomorrow, lovelies. But I just wanted you to know that it's ok. Fuck Tom Cruise. Do whatever it is you have to do in order to have the life you deserve. And you deserve the best.
I love you all,