Working with a healthcare team to improve emotional health
I started working with a new therapist this week.
Even putting that phrase on the screen seems weird. I still feel like I shouldn’t need this. I no longer feel like I don’t deserve help, but admitting that I need it is another story.
I’m extremely grateful for the few months of reprieve from intrusive thoughts, insufferable anxiety, and bouts of depression which have plagued me for most of my life. I have Prozac to thank for that. And I didn’t know how bad it really was.
Admittedly, the honeymoon phase with this drug is over, as I can feel myself settling into old ways of thinking, and I don’t like it. I kind of like the new me. My therapist suggested that I ask my prescribing provider to up the dose. It’s humbling, again, to feel like I need that.
As I gave pieces of my elevator speech to her, as I’ve now practiced telling my story several times, I appreciated the looks of shock she gave me. You see, sometimes those who are abused start to gaslight themselves into thinking that what they experienced couldn’t have been that bad. But hearing yourself tell it out loud, and then hearing someone’s reaction to hearing your story for the first time helps you regain perspective.
Most of my experiences with therapists thus far have been more for venting than anything else. I’ve never been given tools to help deal with the mess of my life. I’m hoping this therapist will.
But I’m already feeling guilty for the money this therapy will cost me, and more importantly, my family. I should send bills to my attempted rapist and my former youth minister. That seems fair. I’ll cover the generic Prozac if you pay for the rest. If only it worked that way.
Maybe this is as happy as I will ever get. This is a far better life than pre-Prozac, but I’m hoping it gets even better.
I’m not super excited that I have to rely on medicine to balance my anxiety and depression. But with as challenging as our world is right now, I also wonder how anyone survives without a little help.
So often we self-medicate. Alcohol is a popular drug of choice, and it’s legal and easily accessible. Other drugs aren’t difficult to obtain if you look hard enough, although I’ve never gone down this path myself.
Exercise has also been a popular and healthier alternative outlet for anxiety. I’ve obviously used this, too, as my running resume will back up: ten marathons and one ultramarathon.
I reached the point on this medication that exercise once again isn’t enough. And so now that I’m on double the dose, I have finally started to perk up a bit. I went for my first mid-week run since June this week. It felt good to take time to take care of my body.
Maybe part of my newfound funk is because I miss England. That’s the thing about great experiences. You simply want more.
It’s been over a month since I’ve been back in the US, but I feel inexplicably tied to England. I felt such a sense of peace and pure joy there. It’s the first time I’ve ever experienced feelings like that.
Why did I feel this? Was it simply the joy of a new experience? Was it realizing a dream that I thought would never come true?
Even though I’m beginning to feel better on the higher medication dose, I feel a bit defeated. It’s like a sign of weakness to need more. But I also know that it helps, and everyone deserves to be treated for their ailments. We shouldn’t stigmatize seeking help with our emotional health.
Here are the questions I keep asking myself: is the joy I feel real, or is it just the medicine? Or does the reason even matter anymore?
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If you struggle with your emotional health, I hope you have the courage to seek help. I’m really glad I finally did.
As always, I hope you all are safe and healthy.
Anne the Vegan 