Depression Talk

I’ve taken a numbe rof medications for my Insanity over the years, a large number. At one point in my life I was taking pills out of seven different bottles, bottles that my mother had to code with letters and numbers so I wouldn’t confuse them and end up seizing on the kitchen floor in front of Grandma. Because there is nothing worse than seizing on the kitchen floor in front of Grandma.

Medication for Insanity is very tricky, because there is no set in stone rules about which medications will work for which person. The first meds I took made me shake like shaking was my job, as though my entire body had been taken over by one of those little electric toothbrushes, only it didn’t have an OFF button and I couldn’t remove the batteries. I’m sure that if I had worked at one of those illicit sex shops during that time in my life, I would have made wonderful presentations without draining the batteries on the objects they sell there. But I was not working at one of those illicit sex shops, and so my unstoppable shake-y shaking was of no use to anyone.

After that experience, I was more than a little wary of trying any more drugs. If I had to forfeit any type of life I had because I couldn’t leave the house for fear of vibrating my car right into the ditch, what would the point of being sane be? Off meds, I couldn’t leave because it is hard to go places without your mind. On meds, I was shaking like a leaf and its hard to go places when moving is IMPOSSIBLE because YOU CAN’T STOP SHAKING.

I was really lucky in that the third drug I took managed to make me sane again. I was amazed that I had once more become capable of sleeping, eating, and leaving the house at appropriate intervals and in appropriate amounts. All three of those things are affected when I’m not sane, and when you can’t eat, sleep, or leave the house, the rest of your life tends to be affected negatively as well, because really, what else is there in life than eating, sleeping, and leaving the house?

I guess my point here is that the first batch of pills sucked. The second batch of pills just didn’t do anything. And the third batch of pills made me all better again, made me a happily functioning human being capable of living. Capable of BEING ALIVE.

You can’t lose faith entirely if your first treatment options don’t pan out. I had to be cajoled after the side effects of the first pills, I really had to be convinced to give it a try after the second. Eventually I found one that worked, though, and then my life became a life worth living once more.

medication, depression, anxiety, seizures, Grandma