I thought I could do it myself. That brick wall that formed in my life could most certainly be overcome by a survivor like me. I've done it before. I can do it again. Eating right, exercise and a whole ton of positive thought would propel me right back to where I wanted to be. I did not need an SSRI (Selective Serotonin Reuptake Inhibitor) antidepressant to fix me!
Now, if only I could get myself to the gym. But I didn't. Nor did I feel like eating. Well, actually, I lacked the ability to choose what to eat so I avoided it all together.
Positive thought? Yeah, not so good. Those thoughts either never got finished or began an inner argument that ruled my life. I wanted to believe that relief would come just as soon as I _____ (fill in the blank).
That relief did not come, so something must be wrong with me. I had my thyroid and iron level checked, twice. Each time I went to see my PCP I berated myself for being a hypochondriac.
My doc did not berate or ridicule me. She knew my personality was one of exuberance, drive and passion. She also reminded me about my history of depression.
So, here I was, my brain no longer firing the way it once did. Which meant that I needed an antidepressant to reconfigure the wiring that had somehow shorted out, again.
But antidepressants could kill my creativity. At least, that is what I told myself. But truth be told, my creativity has been floundering for a long time. I've been sinking for a long time, but was unable to admit it.
That first night, when I placed the white capsule on my tongue and swallowed with hesitation, my pride caved in. I can't do this alone and I shouldn't. Everyone needs a life jacket now and again. If it were my heart, I wouldn't think twice about taking medication. My brain is malfunctioning and it's time I do something about it.
I admit, I felt like a failure. Not only did I succumb to depression again, but now I need medication to get over it.
But with the help of the SSRI I am seeing that I needed this experience. The whole point of my YA novels is to bring teen depression to the forefront. I had almost forgotten what it felt like. And now I remember. I am not worried about my creativity anymore. It's coming back, a little at a time. And so am I.