Note: This post is looong overdue. It is a continuation of of a series of posts I want to share with you all in hopes that I not only help myself, but help someone else out there as well who may be going through the same things I did and occasionally still do. I'm not sure if depression in curable. Sometimes I equate it in my mind with cancer....as if it is always there just under the surface...perhaps currently in remission by both medication and God's grace, but the knowledge it may rear its ugly head again scares me.
So here I was standing at the pharmacy counter of my local CVS. Just the day before I had seen a 'shrink' and came home to my wife and explained to her that in not so many words that he would like to put me on Lexapro and Clonapen. There was still a portion of me that was in denial and disbelief. Again, when I look in the mirror, I see a pretty well fit and athletic guy....a guy who used to have a lot of friends and was considered the 'life' of the party. A decent looking guy that before he was married had no problem dating. But here I was...feeling alone, and tense, and unhappy, and nervous, and most of all ashamed of myself.
Ashamed of what, I cannot fully describe or put into exact words. Here I was, again, with a slip of paper with some scribble on it....a tangible reminder staring back at me and telling me I was a failure. I hated being married right then and there. I loathed trudging back into work and dealing with people I believed to be a hinderance and a contsant annoyance to me. I was empty spiritually, though deep down there was a gnawing at my heart...perhaps I was hungry a relationship with Him and just didn't know it yet. Heck...I was going going to church...but more out of obligation and guilt than I was getting fed....but at the time I didn't really care. While I though the notion of God abandoning me was 'not right', I did feel I was on perpetual 'hold' with Him.
When the young pharmacist took my slip and acknowledged me, I couldn't help but wonder if she was looking at me with judging eyes. Perhaps she too thought I was a loser, and she'd treat me with kid gloves. I had a hard time making eye-contact with her as I felt I just wanted to get out of there. Finally she took my information and told me to come back later, after work, for my pick-up. Great, just great....now I have to think about this all day, and return in a walk of shame to come and pick up my 'happy pills'.
Work that day just seemed like any typical day....going through the motions....checking the clock every so often. Why are people so stupid, I thought. Here I sit putting on a happy face, while deep down inside I wanted zero interaction with anyone.
All this time I thought I was doing a decent job of hiding my moods, but apprantly I wasn't fooling anybody except myself. In time I would learn that many of my coworkers, while they still liked me....did indeed think I had changed...that I looked more weary and tired.
That evening I picked up by vials of pills and came home. Thankfully my wife wasn't home, and I took my first Lexapro in silence. I knew nothing was going to happen right away. I am smart enough to know it was going to take a few days for my body to regulate and start adjusting to the synthetic chemicals in my body and trick my brain into who-knows-what.
I tried to hide the bottles that night. I didn't want my wife to see these obvious orange containers as a reminder that her husband who is strong on the outside is weak in the inside, ready to crack at a moments notice. Little good it did me as for when she got home that evening, the first thing she quizzed me on is if I picked up my 'medicine'. Oh, is that what we are calling it? My 'medicine'? Heck, I don't know what I wanted it called....I basically didn't want to talk about it at all. It would be my little secret, not to be shared with family, friends, church, co-workers, neighbors....anyone. Just my wife and my shrink.
To be continued.....
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