I Don’t Have Any Feelings On Antidepressants

That statement could be taken two ways.

Do I have opinions about antidepressants? You betcha. Do I have any emotions while taking them? Not really. Which is why I have the opinions I do. The fact that I am motivated enough to write them down is because I am full of coffee, not because of my SSRI.

Once I said something about taking an antidepressant, almost everyone I know confessed the same thing. Everyone named the several they had tried so far, and compared notes. It left me thinking about how the doctors see us, and the problems we share with them. I recently left my doctor’s office with a bag full to the top with samples, crying, and for some reason, thanking him. For what? I guess for not having to pay for a prescription that may not work, or has a terrible side effect, which would leave me with an entire bottle of medication I’ll never use.

And that leads me to my other thought: the pharmaceutical companies are making way too much money by guinea pigging patients. At one point during my son’s struggle with Crohn’s disease, my insurance paid $6,800 for one month’s supply of Humira that he ended up not using. I was left with several containers of perfectly good medicine, that at $750 a pop, should be refundable. Someone could use it.

In the last two weeks, my son has tried two different antidepressants. They were supposed to help him deal with stress, and prevent self-injury. The first one, he said, made it impossible to sleep. Been there. The second one made him throw up. So now he won’t try anything else. I myself have tried at least ten SSRIs over the last 15 years, so I can sympathize with him. It is frustrating. The doctor suggested we take him to a counselor, because, I assume without his prescription pad, he cannot help us.

Strangely, though, after my son stopped taking them, he seems less stressed out than before. It may be just a coincidence. I am still watching him very closely. Right now, The Big Picture is obstructed by day to day life. I’m just taking it 24 hours at a time.

Personally, I held out a long time before going back on my medication. Mainly because I knew how I would and wouldn’t feel. On SSRIs, I feel numb. Blank. Like a nice white sheet of paper with nothing on it. Boring. Not happy. Not unhappy, Not terribly concerned or motivated or inspired. Not sentimental. Not gone, but not really present. It’s a strange place to be. I like to think I am just visiting, and that I don’t have to live here forever.

Last week I lost my job. That makes three downsizings! Three!! I think I am entitled to a few free therapy sessions or some award to stroke my damaged ego.  Without my medication, I probably would have gone to bed and stayed a few days. But, I’m so used to my job being eliminated or moved, I just packed and left. (Really, when I am working, every day that I make eight hours without being downsized, I am a tiny bit surprised.) My main concerns since then have been getting unemployment started back up and whether I am going back for my lucky bamboo sitting on the desk. I know, I know… how lucky was it? 

My friend Beth said things happen for a reason. Maybe I’m meant to be here for Dylan. He has two infusions of Remicade and a doctor’s visit scheduled. My boss wouldn’t have liked that at all. In my experience, bosses don’t like employees with sick children.

Even now, I am having mixed feelings about my medication. Before he went to work this morning, my husband and I got into a huge fight… and we are at a pivitol point in our marriage. The subject of divorce has come up several times. It’s make it or break it time, and I feel… well, I don’t know. It’s that damned pill! I normally would be a wreck. Feeling like I do, I am less likely to express my true feelings. Were I crying all day, I still might not figure out how to fix our problems, but I would be trying. I would be feeling something.

Which is better?

~ by ocdiva on August 5, 2008.