Happy Pills. On Depression And Medication

Read a really good article in the Independent about the language around anti depressant medication. It was ever so good and it got me thinking about attitudes about actually taking them.

I've been on them for about two years now. I've talked in previous blogs about how I've had counselling, but not about my meds.

So maybe it's time.

Like I say, I've been on Prozac for two years now. It's something I'm used to and something that doesn't embarrass me now. It did though. It seemed like I'd failed somehow. That by not coping I was admitting that I was lesser.

Took me a long while to start taking them for a few reasons.

I was worried about turning into an emotionless drone. Which was ironic as I was feeling nothing but sad, bone crushingly sad, all the time. I could have done with switching that off if I'm honest.

I was also worried about being artificially happy. Joy is a thing I cherish. I embrace it, revel in it. Bathe in the glow of it and savour the memory if it as I go to sleep.

I didn't want that to be fake. It was too important to risk it like that.

The thing was, I was finding no joy in anything. Everything was dark and heavy and pointless and stupid. I was dark and heavy and pointless and stupid.

So I went on the 'happy pills'.

What a misnomer. They didn't make me happy. PEOPLE made me happy. They just gave me the mental headspace to allow that to happen. I didn't actually realise how well they were working until I found myself laughing spontaneously. What a moment that was!

I wasn't an emotionless drone. I was still feeling them, but when it was APPROPRIATE for me to do so. What a revelation!! When I was happy I felt happy. When I was sad I felt sad.

Might seem a small thing but to me it was everything. I understood that my medication was keeping me level so that I could function, and more than that, live and feel.

Yet still I fell into the trap.

The trap of thinking I had to come off the meds as soon as possible. I tried it in the summer. I had just moved in with The Lovely, I was ridiculously happy in my new city with my new man and I loved my new office and my new team. Life was positive.

So I stopped taking the Prozac.

I ended up so poorly that I thought a city hated me. I wasn't coping with the aspects of my work that weren't as positive as they could be. I cried A LOT. The Lovely got very good at walking on eggshells. I found myself unable to get out of bed on sunny days so I went back to the doctor and went back on the meds.

I'm more open about my need for antidepressants these days. It's not the first thing I say, but I'm not shy about it.

I get asked 'aren't they just a crutch?'. Here's the thing. Would you take a crutch away frI'm someone with a broken leg? Didn't think so.

And no, it isn't a crutch, it's a treatment. Would you take medication away from diabetics? No. I didn't think so.

Neither am I mentally deficient. That was a nice one.

And I don't know how long I'll be on them. As long as it takes I suppose, even if that is forever.

So what is the point of this post? For me it is a catharsis to write about this stuff. And I hope that it helps even one person understand what depression and taking meds is like for me.

It won't be the same for everyone though. Know how you'll find out how it is for them? Ask them. We're one in four so we aren't hard to find.