The Battle of Me & My Brain...
“How are you?” is something we ask each other constantly like a reflex. “Fine, thanks. How are you?” With the exception of my grandmother who always expressed exactly how she really felt even when it was uncomfortable, people don’t often take the time to share how they are actually feeling. But in 2020, I noticed the people around me start asking “how ARE you really?” And some started giving honest answers. Some broke down and cried on Zoom calls, like me, while others buried their feelings so far deep down until they exploded.
I was raised to push down and box up my emotions and feelings instead of feeling and processing them. The emotional minimizing I’ve done when I was upset became routine; it swallowed up other feelings, too. Not deeply feeling heartache or sadness meant I couldn’t feel the good feelings either.
This piece took me a long time to write; maybe because I was scared to be this vulnerable or maybe because I didn’t know how to perfectly capture what this journey has looked like. Then I realized that there is no way to paint the perfect picture when depression looks different to so many people. This is just my story.
A bed is your best friend when you have depression. Trying to burrow further and further into the covers, hiding away from your responsibilities and real life, but this journey never stops no matter how much you try to shy away from it. You can’t just get rid of depression or shake it off, you have to learn to live with it. You have to tolerate the ebbs and relish in the flows of life.
I moved away from New York after living there for 10 years, and a lot of people assumed that just because I moved to Los Angeles, I was much happier. But I wasn’t. People’s perception of happiness, especially on social media, has become skewed. It’s a shadow of what happiness really is. I tried to change myself to fit this imaginary mold of what a ‘happy person’ looks like. It was a puzzle piece that was not fitting.
Then a few months into the 2020 pandemic, it was there again. The lingering thought I’d pushed down in the back of my mind for the past ten plus years came right to the front. The one that toyed with the idea of going on medication in the past but was too afraid or ashamed to go through with it. Whenever I had mentioned the idea to my parents, I was met with some Marge Simpson-like groans and a lot of apprehension. Some people may not have to be on antidepressants their whole life and others do. Medication is a completely different experience for everyone, and that’s okay.
Why are mental and physical illnesses looked at so differently? Is it because you can’t see that something is wrong? It’s the silent killer of many across the world, and globally more than 264 million people suffer from depression. Depression doesn’t care about gender or race or income or how many Instagram followers you have. “Depression is persistent sadness over extended periods of time, with physiological symptoms, but people throw the term around like it’s a catch all phrase for feeling bad,” says journalist Sara Radin. The word has been frequently used in memes or as a punchline to a joke, but those of us living with it know the severity of depression. Sara, a good friend of mine, has been covering mental health for the last four years and has been an advocate of sharing her own mental health journey on social media with her 10,000+ followers. The light that I see at the end of this dark abyss is knowing that I’m not alone in experiencing these feelings, or sometimes, lack thereof.
With the pandemic getting worse, I kept hitting a wall in therapy that I couldn’t seem to get past as much as I tried with the tools I had available to me like thought logs, meditating, looking at and categorizing cognitive distortions, etc., so I finally decided medication was the next step I needed to get closer to my true self. My therapist said that medication and continuing therapy together would help lift the weight I felt like I was carrying around. If there was ever a time to try medication, this was it. Note: If you’re at this point in life, it’s vital to talk with a doctor or medical professional to see what the best medication for you might be. The process of finding the right one is an uphill battle, and it may take a few different concoctions to find the right fit for your body but don’t give up.
Before I started Prozac, there was a haze that hung in my brain, the endless brain fog that made everything ten times harder to do. I blamed it on a poor diet or lack of exercise, but I really knew what it was. I just needed it validated. I booked a virtual appointment with a psychiatrist, and she confirmed I had PDD or Persistent Depressive Disorder, which is less severe but longer lasting than major depression, and I felt like I could breathe a sigh of relief. Some of the PDD symptoms include indecisiveness (felt this BIG time), difficulty concentrating, lack of sleep or sleeping too much, fatigue or low energy, low self-esteem, and hopelessness or pessimism.
On the verge of a road trip with my friend to Lake Powell, Arizona I started on 20mg of Prozac. On the trip we took in breathtaking views, hiked, and kayaked through Antelope Canyon. Here I was on this amazing, soul nourishing trip and all I could feel was numbness. I knew medication wasn’t like a light switch that made everything better, but I had hoped to feel something stir inside of me while looking over Horseshoe Bend, a scenic view located on the east rim of the Grand Canyon that is simply stunning. Instead, I made a wish and set intentions. I had faith that something was about to change.
When I got back from my trip, I upped my dose with the assistance of my doctor. She said it is important to take it slow when upping your dosage because the bigger the jump, the worse the side effects are or at least that’s how it has been for me. The transition from 20mg to 40mg of Prozac was difficult while working. Imagine having all your anxiety turned up full blast in your head, like a jammed CD in your car, stuck on loop. Before bed, it was especially loud and caused me to restlessly toss and turn before giving in to sleep. It was not fun, but I wasn’t alone; thank God for that. Across the country, my best friend was navigating the very same thing.
My friends were my family, therapy, and commiserators. Sara was also transitioning off of Lexapro onto Prozac, so I quite literally had someone to compare side effects with. There was nausea, lack of appetite, sporadic headaches, and parts of my memory that weren’t great, especially when it came to work. I knew I just had to ride this wave out and take care of myself when I wasn’t working, which meant laying horizontal on the couch or ordering from Panera Bread an exorbitant amount of times.
I didn’t feel like I deserved a sick day, even though I was on the brink of vomiting sometimes. That was the anxiety spiking and taunting me. I reached out to my doctor just to confirm all the side effects I was dealing with were normal, and she assured me that they would go away within a few days. She was right (shocker), and they did start to go away over the next few days.
It wasn’t until Thanksgiving break that I started to feel the true benefits of my medication. My plans consisted of making/eating good food with a close friend and resting. I’ve never quite rested like I did those couple of days. She watched “The Queen’s Gambit” for the second time, and I slept through it all under a cozy blanket on my L-shaped couch. The day after Thanksgiving, we made brunch. Looking down at my pancakes and bacon shaped into a smiley face, I felt something profound. Joy. Making pancakes had become a regular activity during the pandemic, and I felt a shot of serotonin flowing through me. I wanted to cry tears of, well, joy. My mood started to shift, and I began to feel hope.
“People actually feel like this all the time?!” I thought when I felt the rush of good emotions. It felt like a wall had been built preventing my brain from going on a downwards spiral. Another friend said something that really stuck with me during this whole adjustment period: “Take it one day or one moment at a time.” I really honed in on this and slowly it made things easier. I stopped having severe anxiety about the future or disappointment about the past. I started living in the now.
If you’re feeling hesitant about talking to someone or looking down at a little pill hoping to make things better, ask yourself why. I’ve heard people say a therapist won’t tell them anything they don’t already know, but what if they did? Wouldn’t that be something? Learning more about ourselves is a gift.
It’s not lost on me what a privilege it is to have access to therapy and medication, especially during this upside-down year. I will strive to help others along the way or make someone smile or just be an ear when someone needs to vent. Prozac for me is like what glasses are for my father. It helps me see clearly, and having this clarity is something I feel like I’ve waited my whole life for. I finally feel like I’m, to quote a Maggie Rogers song, “back in my body,” and damn, it feels good.
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Art by Wojciech Fangor