I’ve suffered with depression on and off throughout my life. I’ve avoided taking anti-depressants not because I am embarrassed by them. But because I didn’t want to think my depression had gotten that bad.
Then I was forced into a new position at work and my depression was worse than ever. I dreaded my alarm going off in the morning, I slept in as late as possible, I didn’t give a shit about how I looked, I ate whatever was available (which was always fast food), and I went to sleep as soon as I got home at night.
I saw the signs and decided to get help. I started seeing a therapist twice a month. I started taking St. John’s Wort, which is what my husband takes for his depression. After several months of using the over the counter herbal medicine, I determined that it just wasn’t working and I talked to my doctor about getting a legit anti-depressant. I shared with him what I had been doing and we agreed that starting me on the lowest dose possible was the best course of treatment.
I continued my therapy and told her about the anti-depressants that had been prescribed to me. She agreed with my physician about putting me on them.
I was on the right track to being happy, right?
At least that’s what I thought.
It turns out that anti-depressants aren’t for me. They made my depression worse than ever, to the point that I was thinking of suicide.
I made the difficult decision to continue medicating myself and falling down the rabbit hole of medications I need, plus medications to help with the side effects of the first set, and so on. OR I address the source of my depression and fix it.
I took the fix it route.
The downside was that it required me to change my job and leave the only job I had ever had at that point in my life.
With some planning ahead, I quit my job and took a year off to recover. I learned alot about myself in the process. Like how I was using shopping as a form of therapy. I seriously bought so many pairs of shoes that I STILL don’t wear. All because I wanted them and they were cute.
The sad part is, I don’t like wearing heels. They are uncomfortable as shit.
Anyways, I cut back on my spending, and kept purchases to what’s absolutely necessary.
I’ve never been happier to be this broke.
I’ve taken a massive pay cut and I make way less than I did before I left the biggest stressor in my life, but it’s made me happier.
It was a risky move. Everyone in my life told me to keep medicating myself and just become numb, all for the name of money. Sure, I have more debt than I’d care to. But at the end of the day, I don’t have to take a pill to get to sleep. I don’t dread waking up in the morning. I don’t spend my free time anymore getting drunk or high to forget my job.
At the end of the day, I’m happy. My marriage is better. My relationship with my sister is better. I’m closer to my best friends. And I’ll take that over having a shopping addition, over 10 different prescription medications, and heading down the path of being an alcoholic, like my father any day.
The moral of my story thus far is this- be happy.