I just turned 55 last week. At the age of 32 I was diagnosed with major, recurring depression. Actually I had a psychiatrist confirm my own diagnosis that I had found through a check list I saw somewhere.
I felt very relieved when he said, it sounds like you’re depressed. I was so afraid he would say, there’s nothing a good night’s sleep won’t fix. He put me on medication and I started seeing a therapist for talk therapy.
He started me on Wellbutrin at a low dose that I increased slowly over days. One morning I got out of bed and the whole room was spinning. I lay back down and called the office. My psychiatrist was on vacation. The shrink covering for him said it was common as my blood pressure was changing. So drink lots of fluids and don’t do the next increase until my own doctor got back and I could talk to him.
I was annoyed that I had to wait on increasing the dosage. I was impatient because I had finally, finally found something that actually worked for me. I wanted to get on with life.
The Wellbutrin stabilized the lows. It felt like the bottom had been raised. I was married with two children and working full time. I had nothing to give at the end of the day. And it wasn’t just energy. I was emotionally exhausted, almost catatonic.
With the new drug, I started feeling better. I started feeling normal, a sensation that was so new to me that all I wanted to do was sit and enjoy the feeling. It drove my husband crazy because he thought that nothing had changed.
But slowly that started to change, life began to seep into my bones and I discovered that I did not have to spend my day emotionally spent.
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