Hi there. How are you?
Today's blog is a very special one.
Jenipher Lyn, an artist friend of mine, has written a fabulous book for teens/young women. As part of Jenipher's book launch, I was asked to write/doodle on the topic of depression. As you may or may not know, I have some experience on the topic.
I dealt with a bought of depression, that started in the summer of 2005 and lasted a whole year. I had trouble getting out of bed, trouble eating, and lost my desire to do just about anything but sit on the couch and cry. I thought it would pass. I'd get over it. But I didn't. I needed help.
I couldn't fix it on my own.
But I still didn't want to admit that.
I knew things were bad when my Dad came over unannounced one afternoon. My Dad is not the most talkative or emotional of men I know, so when he sat me down that day, I knew it was important. My Dad proceeded to tell me about his own battle with depression. I had no idea that he battled the same demons I was. I had always known that we had a family history of depression, but I had never known that Dad himself had dealt with it. This visit and this talk convinced me that it was time to seek some help.
The next day, I called my doctor, got hooked up with a counselor and started weekly therapy. Therapy helped, but it wasn't enough. I was still imbalanced, chemically imbalanced and all the therapy in the world wasn't going to change that. I was prescribed an anti-depressant, but didn't fill the prescription right away. I didn't want to have to take a pill everyday to make myself feel better. There's such a social stigma to taking "happy pills."
After some encouragement from my parents I started taking a daily low-dose antidepressant.
As time went on, things got better. I still had setbacks, depressed times, but overall I was feeling better. Feeling like myself.
