Doctors Can Be Idiots Too

I first went to see a doctor about my depression about 5 years ago.  I didn't know that there was help for me, because I assumed that how I felt was just a character flaw - that it was my fault for not being able to handle things like normal people do. 
My boyfriend (now husband) said that I should go see a doctor for help, I was - relieved?  It was the very first time that anyone had suggested that how I was 'acting' was not my fault, that there could literally be something 'wrong' with me.  I remember feeling like the puzzle peices were coming together.  Not my fault.  Not. My. Fault.  To finally think that there was a medical reason for how I felt was liberating! 

There have been so many times in the past where I would just completely lose it and then be embarrassed by my behavior (that I couldn't control) and want to shrivle up and disappear.

I called for my first appointment and they were very fast at getting me in, to my amazement!  It's like when you go to the walk-in with chest pain - they don't mess around!  Anyway, I saw my general practice doctor and explained how I had been feeling (my whole life) and he seemed to understand how I felt and prescribed Prozac and a follow up visit.  After several weeks, I began to feel what I imagined 'normal' people feel like. 

Fast-forward 4 years.  After seeing a psychologist and him reassuring me that it's not me but that the medication wasn't working properly any longer, I went to see my doctor again.  I relayed what I was going through and the suggestions the psychologist had recommended for increasing my meds.  My doctor was a complete asshole.  He said I seemed fine a few month before and almost seemed threatened by the information I relayed from the psychologist.  I had had it.  I didn't need my doctor making me feel like a failure and an idiot.  I took my business elsewhere.

At this time, I'm very happy with the doctor I have chosen.  I didn't choose a psychiatrist because I don't have depression because of issues - it's just the way I am.  I chose a doctor of internal medicine who can treat me for whatever I walk in there with.  Thankfully, we found a medication that works for now, and I've been making a conscious effort to evalute how I'm feeling regularly. 

I've also learned to listen more closely to my husband.  Although he doesn't understand me most of the time, when he starts telling me that I seem crabby, repeatedly, I'll make an appointment to see my doctor.

Merry Christmas!

Ramblings...

I'm very new to the whole Twitter scene.  I find it ... different.  On Facebook, you connect with friends old & new and like pages.  On Twitter, it's like you can run into ANYONE - it's a free-for-all.  Yet, you can't say more than x-amount of characters at a time!  I'm getting to my point ...

I've been on Twitter a little while and have the whole "depression" thing going on as my topic of interest.  I see a lot of posts that are very negative, depressing (imagine that!), and sometimes downright frightening.  It's scary - for two reasons:
1. I empathized with these people who are depressed and feel like there's no hope.  I know that that feels like and I pray to God that they make it through to a brighter spot.  I was also going to say that I hope they have a good support network of family and friends to talk to, but then I realized that, that doesn't matter.  When you are in that black hole, you are alone.  It doesn't matter how much your family and friends love you because you can't focus on anything except that suffocating feeling of despair.  Wow, that's really optimistic!
2. I'm very affected by the emotions of others, things I read, things I hear, and things I see.  I'm afraid of being somehow pulled in to a darker place by reading these depressing, negative and hopeless posts on Twitter by others.  So far, I'm doing fine, but this is me just thinking aloud.

Double the Depression, Double the Fun!

I found a letter today that I wrote during my last bout of "double depression".  This happened during the summer of 2011.  I didn't understand what was happening.  I had been taking Prozac for almost 4 years and didn't notice myself slowly slipping back into the moody, emotional state that I had left by taking Prozac.  It was a gradual downward spiral, and it never occurred to me that something wasn't right.  We were in the middle of a lot of changes and stress, and I've never been one to stop and evaluate how I'm feeling.  Then all of a sudden BAM!  I felt like complete shit.  I was taking my pills every day, so it never occurred to me that it was my depression.  I just felt like I couldn't deal with anything and had no idea what to do.

I had never seen a psychiatrist or counselor, because what would they do for me?  I've never had any issues to cause my depression - it's just always been the way it is!  But this was BAD.  I had written a letter to my husband (it's the best way that I communicate) and evidently he felt like I was blaming him for how I was feeling for no good reason.  I wasn't stating reality, just how I felt.  Here was my second letter to explain my first letter:

"Imagine having someone walking by your side, 24 hours, 7 days a week, wherever you go, whatever you do, they're there.  Imagine they are right up against your ear, constantly whispering the most negative things they could think of.  Telling you you're worthless, ugly..." (quote from a great Twilight fanfic called Through His Eyes by it's-rpattz-baby)

     My "depression" is no one's fault.  However, I cannot let go of the feeling that it IS MY FAULT.  How can it not be my fault that I can't control my thought and feelings?  I grew up assuming that it was my fault, my behavior - that I'm just too emotional.  If I were a stronger person I could control my thoughts, doubts, and sadness and "snap out of it".   I can't.  And that makes me feel worse.  I start kicking myself when I'm down.  I'm mentally curled up in a corner and want to make myself so small that I disappear.  The feeling of absolute hopelessness surrounds me and squeezes me into a smaller and smaller ball.  But I can't disappear.  I cry out to God to help, but it's just black.  Nothing.  I just want to end the hopeless/helpless felling.  My life means nothing. 
     I stepped up and tried to share where I'm at instead of hiding.  I'm not good at talking.  My brain stops, or my mouth refuses to work.  I'm good at writing.  I can write pages and pages of how I'm feeling or what I'm thinking, but ask me to speak at I shut down.
     This is about ME.  This is not about you, except in that I need you to understand how I feel!  I felt 10x better this morning when I woke up.  Then you made the 'rotten husband' comment and I feel like shit.  I know you're a good guy.  I know I have a good life and you take good care of me.
     My "depression" is not your fault.  But when I'm down on myself, the last thing I need to hear is that things could be worse and how good I've got it.  What I DO need:  Don't make fun of me.  Don't assume blame.  Don't ask me what's wrong, because I'll say "Nothing". Don't tell me I'm over-reacting.  Give me time.  Give me support.  I love you.

So I went to a councelor through work.  He literally saved my life.  He was kind and explained that sometimes drugs lose their effect in cased like mine.  He said that I may have to switch drugs several times throughout my life, but that it's okay.  He reminded me of what I'm dealing with - what I've BEEN dealing with all my life.  And I learned about "Double Depression".  Depression is hard enough, but then it's like being kicked to death when you're already down.  How fun. 

It just amazes me how quick I went back to believing there was something wrong with me, that there was no other reason that I felt the way I did.  To me, it was all my fault.  I began to look back and realize that this wasn't the first time I'd been though a double-downer.  I continually think about that councelor and how he helped me through that dark time, and thank God every day that I had the courage to ask for help.

I've Always Been Functional, for the most part...

All those commercials you see about depression always make it sound like you have to be stuck in bed and want to kill yourself in order to be depressed.  I could always function (get up, go to school/work, do what I had to do) and never felt like I was suicidal, so I never even considered that I had depression.  To me, people with depression sat around trying to kill themselves.
My earliest memories involve bawling my eyes out.  The sad thing is, I grew up in a very loving home with loving parents and a brother.  My family was amazing (still is!) and, though we were not well off, we had no hardships.  There was no abuse, no neglect, no reason for me to go to bed and cry at night.  Looking back, I feel so bad for what I put my family through, but they had no idea either - so I should really try to let that guilt  go one of these days.
I am one of the lucky ones who has been depressed since I was born.  I have no underlying reason for my depression, it's just the way it is.  Thinking about all the crying I've done for no reason in my life is overwhelming!  And tiring.

History ...

I used to be on Prozac until it stopped working.  Did you know that Prozac can stop working???  I sure as hell didn't!
I never even considered that I had depression until I was about to get married and my now husband told me that I should really go to the doctor because he couldn't handle my moods (crying all the time).  I always thought that I was just too emotional and somehow lacked the discipline to control my emotions like everyone else.  Hubs was the first person to suggest that I could get help.  What a frickin' concept.  After 35 years of being a mess, could it actually be that it wasn't "my fault"?
So, I had the choice to call the doctor or remain single.  I called the doctor the next day.  It's amazing how fast you can get an appointment when you say "depression".  I went to see my doctor, told him that I've basically always been overly emotional and he prescribed Prozac.
My life changed.  I felt was a assume "normal" people feel like.  I was also a little pissed that I didn't realize I had depression sooner so that I could've started taking these happy pills sooner!  Years down the drain.  Sucks to be me sometimes!

To Clarify...

Okay, I like to be honest.  I'm not on Prozac anymore.  But I thought the name "Thank God for Prozac" was a little more obvious than "Thank God for citalopram". :)