Medications are often used to treat mental health problems. Finding medications that are effective is an ongoing process.
One pill makes you larger
And one pill makes you small.
And the ones your mother gives you
Don’t do anything at all.
Go ask Alice
When she’s ten feet tall.
~~”White Rabbit: Jefferson Airplane
This is the story of my journey with depression and anxiety medications. There have been several changes to medications and dosages. Some were totally ineffective. Others resulted in side effects that made continuing impractical. So, the process continues. My current regime seems to be heading in the correct direction although we are still looking for the correct dosage.
At some point, this song will no longer reflect my current situation: they will be something in my past. I have seen medications work well with few, if any, side effects.
The line about what mother gives not working is sadly accurate. And won’t change. Mom keeps telling me the depression and anxiety are all in my head and all I need to do is pull myself up and choose not to feel that way. She also tells me I can recover from the brain injury.
Depression and anxiety are “in my head” but not in the way she means. No one can choose not to be depressed or anxious. They hijack your brain’s neurotransmitters. They change the physical structure. I wouldn’t choose this. I want to enjoy life: not to feel like crying, feeling hopeless, not enjoying life. I’d love to travel, or just get out the house, without a feeling of impending doom. Or to quit worrying. Or not to have panic attacks. I also want to give up medication and be stable.
Recovery is a journey. Some days are better than others. Sometimes I stay in my house for days. If I push myself I can run around the block a few times.
This isn’t living. Its existing.
Yet I keep moving. Someday.