It’s no secret I’ve been in a funk. Part physical. Mostly mental. It started with a virus after The Ginger Hunk’s birthday and just wouldn’t lift. That was three weeks ago, and it felt like an eternity. I couldn’t write. I wasn’t having any ideas. THAT feeling came to the pit of my stomach and stayed. An irksome, swallowing, dark feeling that made everything hard. Getting out of bed. Thinking of what to eat. Making basic decisions. Going to the gym even though it makes me feel better. When you’re depressed and anxious you start to question everything. I was doing my head in about many things. From things like “Why am I going to Bali for six weeks to freedive? Am I too old for this shit?” to what to eat for lunch and what not. Anyway, I couldn’t pin point this lack of mood to anything in particular.
I’ve got a good job (stressful at times, but so is everything), The Ginger Hunk is on the mend, and I have two overseas trips this year. But everything felt hard. So off I trotted off to my Doctor. He is a nice kind man. Spends as much time as he needs. Explains everything. I like to save up the GP visits for many things, so I was talking to him about a blocked ear and suspicious moles on my head and then I started to bawl about the funk. You see, I’ve been (what I thought) successfully coming off my anti-depressant for about 4 months. Taking 5mg. A smidgeon of a dose in the land of what people take. I thought I was doing fine.
But add to the combination of life, the sustained stress that The Ginger Hunk and I have been under for three years, work stress and a lot going on, it wasn’t enough to hold me there, in that happy place anymore. And so, The Good Doctor explained that I might just need to be someone who stays on an anti-depressant for life, given my family history. Working in mental health, I’ve seen some shit GPs over the years. One actually asked me if I had googled what I would like him to prescribe. No sir. Anyway, The Good Doctor always explains it like I know nothing about mental health. He takes me back to basics, breathing, reducing commitments, and healthy lifestyle. Which is good. Because although I know a lot, sometimes I am my own worst enemy at taking the advice I so freely give to others.
And so I start, back on the 10mg, back to the psychologist for a top up, back on the road to being my best me.
The fog is slowly lifting.
Happy Sunday,
Ashleigh XXX
