(NOTE: All of my "notes" on Facebook orginate on my blog www.loudloft.blogs.com and automatically cross post to FB from there. If the formatting looks weird or the pictures don't come across, go to the website and give it a look)
It’s been a long time since I’ve visited the topic of my journey with depression. Maybe it’s because it’s been a very tumultuous time. Maybe because it’s always a bit difficult to be as open as I want to be about this very personal topic. Maybe it’s because things have improved and I’m not in as bad a shape as I once was.
Actually, it’s all three.Wellbutrin good. Lexapro bad. That’s the extent of my knowledge about these two common anti-depressants. Of course, my assessment applies ONLY to me. There are folks for whom Lexapro was a Godsend. For me, not so much. Irritable and impotent don’t look good on me. Hell, they don’t look good on anybody but that was the result anytime Lexapro was introduced into the mix.
Eventually, on the advice of a good friend who is also my boss I saw a Psychologist that he highly recommended. The difference between a Psychologist and Psychiatrist is that the Psychologist can prescribe medicine and the Psychiatrist can’t. Well that and a whole $$%&@ of money - and mine’s not covered in my medical plan so I get to experience the joy of directly paying for my health care with my own dollars.
My first visit was for almost an hour and cost as much as, well, it just cost a lot. However, he gave me some very good advice, was incredibly encouraging that we could get a handle on this and began jacking around with my medications. Joyfully, the Lexapro was the first to go.
I have been back to see our Counselor once since then and that too has been helpful.
Yeah, there are crackpot counselors and therapists out there that do far more harm than good but I’ve been blessed by this one many times over.
I’ve made progress at work during this time as well. One aspect of the depression that really hit me hard was my memory. More specifically, the lack of memory. There have been times were at the end of a meeting I can no more remember what was said or decided than I could fly.
I bought one of those moleskin notebooks that all the cool, creative kids use and began taking notes every time I spoke with someone. It’s helped a great deal - I have to keep at it and not get lazy though or I suffer horribly from CRS (can’t remember S@%&)
Still, I’m making progress. Many days it’s two steps forward and one step back. Some days it’s three steps forward and one step back. Every now and then it’s one step forward and one step back. Very rarely it’s just one step back . . . and that’s a good thing. What’s weird is that I can’t think of a single day when it’s been just one step forward. I guess that means I’ve still got a ways to go on this journey.
I actually experieced a “one step back day” today. I was planning an overnight trip to a friends’ lake house. I try to give Lisa a “Bill Free day” on regular intervals and she was overdue for at least one 24 hour period of peace and quiet.
The father of the Senior Pastor at my church passed away this week and a bunch of us drove to Shreveport for the funeral. It was a very sweet and touching service that was totally focused on his family and we all felt that it was a privelege to be present.
I hadn’t considered what the impact of attending the funeral of a good friends father might have on me. One of the things that triggered the deepest part of my depression was a dream that I had about my father, who passed away almost nine years ago. While I was moved during the service, it wasn’t till several hours later after we had all eaten lunch when a friend asked me how I had handled the funeral. I realized that it had affected me more than I had acknowledged. Lisa noticed it when I got home and I really began to feel the effects this morning.
Every thing was hard. Everything was discouraging. Everything was irritating. Especially the gathering up of things to take on a brief overnight trip. I’ve been here at the lake house for about four hours know and the sun is going down. The crickets are chirping, the cicadas are droning and I can hear two couples down the lake talking on their porch.
Here’s what it looks like right now - yes that is the moon in the upper right corner of the picture.
The water is as smooth as glass and the sun is reflecting off the yellow wood framed house in the distance. I can hear an owl warbling out it’s “whoo’s” and there is a dog way off in the distance barking. Occasionally the surface of the water is broken as a fish strikes at a bug and the quick splash is followed by the ripples circling out from the spot where the insect became the fish’s dinner.
For me, it’s the change of venue that helps emphasize that vital element of community and relationship that is woven into our soul.
I’m better now. Not for just today but better in the bigger picture. In a way I’m glad that depression came to me. I can relate to those who experience it in a way that I simply could not before. I certainly don’t wish it on anyone and I’m delighted that where I am in my journey now is better than it once was.
I don’t know if this will be something I deal with for the rest of my life or if it’s just a season. I know I’m not alone . . . and that makes all the difference.
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