I never knew I was depressed until a health teacher recognized the signs I'd been presenting. Not knowing anything was "wrong," I never tried to hide what I went through.
I hid the terrors of my home life, but I've never presented myself other than who I truly am.
I struggled with addictions, and I advocated for myself. Eventually, I figured out there just wasn't something right deep down in me. I sought treatment. I got counseling. I was prescribed anti-anxiety meds to help with my panic attacks. I was diagnosed with borderline personality disorder, and I did deep work in dialectical behavioral skills. My disorder is self sabotaging.
I've always struggled with self esteem, self worth, and self acceptance, since the twats raising me made me believe I was never good enough, and I'd never amount to much.
I am currently stepping down from another round of SSRI. Every so many years, this time, it was 10 years, I find myself in a major depression where I'm stuck, and I can't find joy anymore. I realize it after a month, and I seek help from a doctor.
I appreciate SSRI's as a security blanket to wrap in and bring me up to a good baseline out of that deep pit I found myself in.
I have also learned I don't NEED them for longer than three months. My "normal" is a swinging pendulum, and I love feeling all the feels. I love being able to allow myself to feel emotions and go through the journey and coming through whatever it is.
Currently, I am wanting to get back to my healthier life choices and get more creative, but I've realized on the SSRI, my entire system is suppressed. Instead of feeling like a sparking highlighter, I feel like a muted pastel crayon that gives out more wax than color, and I'm not ok with that.
I spoke with my doctor, and they approved my step-down of taking it every-other-day for a week.
I'm so ready to be my crazy, bouncy self, again. ♡
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