I’ve got an appointment this week to go and see my psychiatrist and decide which anxiety and depression medication I’m going to have a go at.
I’m sitting at home, working and worrying. I am worrying about too many (and too personal) things to list but it made me realise that the relief of this is something that I might be able to work towards. I had assumed that I would spend every waking minute of the rest of my life worrying about the past, the future, the people I love and complete strangers.
Although it might sound stupid it has only just, this minute, occurred to me that by taking medication I might be able to think about something fully rather than always having a large chunk of my brain working on fighting my depression, on running my anxiety.
I have spent a long time worrying about what all of the downsides of medication might be. This is obviously the glorious irony that my anxious tendencies have been keeping me from relieving them. I had not really considered that there was anything to be gained by medication. I saw all of the negatives and none of the positives.
Everything that goes on inside my head seems too intractable. I’ve had these problems for 17 years now, I cannot imagine being well. It seems such a distant idea. I think this is why we set small goals in therapy, partly so that we achieve things and don’t feel discouraged but also because the idea of being “healed” is incomprehensible.
My life is ruled by my mental health and it’s taken me a very (stupidly) long time to see that there might be another way to live.
I’m horribly worried about this meeting, about trying medication, about everything that might change but I think the fact that I can see nothing positive says a lot more about needing to give it a go than steering clear of it.