I was diagnosed with depression during my freshman year at TCU, which isn’t that surprising considering the statistics surrounding the onset of this disease in college. I remember one night, however, on the phone with my dad and completely unable to control myself. I was crying, hyperventilating, and going into one of the darkest places I’ve ever been. I wanted to come home, I wanted to see my boyfriend (the long-distance no doubt added to my stress), and most importantly, I wanted to leave school.
After that night I finally went, under the coercion of my parents, to the TCU Counseling Center in search of help. However, those sessions took place towards the end of the school year and I soon found myself back home and still feeling miserable. Granted, it wasn’t as bad as it had been at school, but I still didn’t feel myself.
I made an appointment with my doctor, who I had known for years, and who I was sure could help me figure all of this out. After discussing my change in personality and answering a few questions, she recommended that I try a low dose of Cymbalta to control what she believed was clinical depression. A few weeks into my new prescription, however, yielded sleepless nights, loss of appetite, and my inability to stay awake during the day. I felt jittery all of the time and even more irritable than normal. The pills were affecting my relationships, my work, and my self-esteem. I felt worse than ever before.
Long story short, I went off the medicine until fall of my sophomore year, when I came to terms with the fact that nothing had changed and I still needed help. My doctor worked with me on finding a new prescription, Lexapro, which I started immediately. The change was incredible; I was happier, optimistic, and finally in control of my emotions. I don’t want to give the impression that it’s a miracle drug, but it definitely helped me. Sometimes I forget that I’m on it, it’s just a part of my nightly routine, like brushing my teeth and washing my face. However, what happens when I forget is one of the most stressful things I’ve endured in the past few years.
Recently, I ran out of my prescription before my new bottle came in. I thought I would be fine for a few days and didn’t think much of it. However, after a few days passed and my new prescription didn’t come in, I started seeing changes in myself. I spent a lot of time in bed, had about three separate mood swings a day (more if I was busy), and spent more time than I had in years thinking about suicide. It’s an incredibly intense feeling to understand just how vulnerable your body is to medication; mine was so vulnerable that it was close to crossing the line between life and death.
Incredibly, however, right before I dealt with this shortage, I read an article about a newlywed couple who had endured something similar to this and how they had coped. It spoke to the understanding that being on antidepressants is no different than being on blood pressure medication or allergy medication. It’s a fact of life that some people suffer from and others don’t, and if there’s a way to treat it, one shouldn’t be ashamed of taking advantage of that treatment. For me, treating it with medication is the only way that I’ve found solace from the crushing feeling of depression. I’ve accepted that and if anything, am grateful for this medication to let me function as a normal human being, doing the things that actually make me happy. So, my advice to anyone considering antidepressants is, if your doctor recommends them, try them. If it doesn’t work for you after a few weeks, then move on to another treatment. But don’t be afraid to try something based on the stigma, because so many more people are helped by those medications than you would believe, and there’s no fault in that.
