I was at my mom’s a few months ago and she was laughing and smiling, which is rather unusual for my mom.
I commented to my step-dad and he said she was on anti-depressant.
I took an interest because I had been pondering if anti-depressants really have an effect on those taking them.
Well, I finally had evidence in the form of my mother. I was shocked at the difference in her behavior. I had been contemplating anti-depressants because I’m tired.
I’m tired of not being happy.
I’m tired of feeling overwhelmed.
I’m tired of wishing I was dead.
I’m tired of not wanting to get up out of bed because I dreaded the day.
Because everything on my to-do list sucked as far as I was concerned.
I needed something to get me past the point of feeling like a broken record, repeating the same sad feelings over and over.
Now, you have to understand I have done therapy. I have done self-help, self-analysis. I have mediated, I have prayed, I have affirmed but this underlying wish to not exist never really goes away.
My life in many ways has had a lot of blessings among the pitfalls but it seems as if they stand out more. I do not know what joy feels like. I have moments, seconds of feeling good but they are overshadowed by aeons of sadness.
A couple of months ago I found out that my great-grand parents on my mother’s side (married to each other) had each committed suicide by hanging themselves ( at different points in time).
I wish I had known that growing up. I always felt like there was something so wrong with me.
I remember at the age of 8 or 9, sitting in the shower stall hugging my knees rocking back and forth and wishing that I was dead. but I don’t remember what had occurred to make me feel that way. To this day there is a black spot on my memory, but I do remember wishing that I was dead at the age of 8 or 9.
The light bulb went off for me when my mom told me about the suicides. all of a sudden it made so much more sense to me.
Depression, like alcoholism is hereditary. I no longer felt like I was some alien.. Like a failure because all the therapy, all the seminars ultimately left me back at square one.
So, I take a little blue pill every morning and I wonder is it really working? I think it is because I don’t feel so overwhelmed. I still get angry , I still get sad but I don’t go into death mood like I used to so easily.
“I think I need a higher dosage”, I had said to my mother. She said “Me too!”.
I thought she was talking about herself but she meant she agreed with me that I should be on a higher dosage….thanks mom….
I often wonder what it would have been like to have had a happy mother that enjoyed life…would I still need meds or would I have been a happier child?
I am tired of being the sad one. I want to be known as the woman who is living life to the utmost.