Transitioning to a new crazy pill

A few weeks ago I had to go to my GP for a mental health checkup.

She asked how things have been . . . with my depression. And I can’t lie.

“Not that great to be honest. I’ve had quite a few down days which makes me wonder if the meds aren’t working how they are supposed to.”

So she pulled out the ole Are You Depressed? form for me to fill in. She calculates all the ticks and writes down a number that is the highest I’ve ever recorded.

WTF?! I’m on anti-depressants and that’s my score

We agree that I’m not severely depressed but things aren’t working as they should. Ideally, we want me in the minimal to mild depression bracket. So we’ve got some work to do.

Hence the transition to a new anti-depressant. I’ll be going from Citalopram to Efexor. No idea what the difference is and how it will make me feel any different. But I’ll guess we’ll find out soon enough.

What’s frustrating is that I can’t just stop one and start another. I’ve got a 10 week transition period of weaning myself off one and onto the other.

So far not so good

I’m currently in week 3 and it’s tough. Yesterday I had a REALLY bad day. I actually took a video of what was going on but I’m not ready to share that just yet. But these photos give you a bit of an idea . . .

So what do I mean by a REALLY bad day?

I mean tears, shutting myself away in my room all day, not being able to function to do even the simplest of things . . .

Here’s an excerpt from my diary:

I hate waking up like this! The fog. The heaviness. The ‘I can’t be bothered’ mindset.

Today I haven’t showered. I really need to wash my hair and shave my legs. (You know you desperately need to shave your legs when the hairs keep catching on the bed sheets and it’s uncomfortable).

I let the boys have ice-cream for breakfast.

It’s raining . . . a reflection of my mood. It’s dark. A good excuse to stay inside all day.

I should work today but fuck it! Fuck everyone else.

I want to sit inside, for nobody to notice me. 

When I drop the boys at school and kindy, I hope no one talks to me. Please don’t ask me how I am.

And please, boys, don’t cry when I leave. Please settle easily. I can’t deal with that shit. It’s all about me . . . I’m miserable so you can’t be. It’ll just make things harder for me. And I can’t handle it today.

But that’s not very fair is it? To ask them not to feel or to dismiss their feelings so my life is easier.

I feel for my family. They just want me to be happy. They wish they could ‘fix’ me.

My poor boys who get a lucky dip every morning as to what mood I’m going to be in. Them wondering what the hell they did wrong when I flew off the handle about something that wasn’t a big deal the day before.

This is a suckful place to be in!

I got through the day

I lay in bed and watched Lightbox all day . . . until I had to pick the boys up. Then we all lay in my bed watching a device till Dad got home.

What I’m really thankful for is the support of the other mum’s in the private group. All of them offered their support and it made it a lot more bearable knowing I wasn’t alone and this won’t last forever.

This is really hard and after being on anti-depressants for quite awhile now, I forgot how low things can get. It reminded me that this is a chemical thing for me and the sooner I can find a crazy pill that works, the better.

PS. It’s the day after and I still haven’t showered. I’ve cancelled a social engagement because I just can’t face people right now. Thanks goodness it’s still raining because it meant I had the excuse of being in a hurry to drop the boys off. Sorry, no time to talk . . . I’m getting wet! I’m also really anxious about a family event tomorrow too. I’d really like to pull out but we haven’t seen these friends for ages and we booked this month’s ago. AAHHHH!  The mind is a constant battlefield sometimes!