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I feel empty inside...
I spent a few days in Glasgow the week before last, and I'd forgotten to take my medication. After coming back home, I didn't really stay on top of it too much either. I was OK for a few days.
And then It got me.
Why did I stop taking my medication? That's a good question. I've thought a lot about that. The medication doesn't eradicate the depression. It replaces the tremendous highs and crushing lows of my pre-medication existence with...nothing. It puts me in a sort of holding pattern. People think 'Oh great, you're doing much so better now', and that's because they see a more stable, less erratic, me. But inside I'm not alive. I'm not enjoying the day-to-day moments in life - the jokes and the laughter, great weather and good times - that seem to come so naturally to other people. I'm just here, in statis. I guess after a while of living in this medicated reality, I feel like a fraud; laughing on the outside, yet feeling nothing on the inside.
Is this all that there is for people like me? I guess I stop taking my meds because I want to FEEL something, anything. Even if what I feel is utter hopelessness and complete desolation.
You can't say this sort of stuff to people. I know we're living in better times, that's we're supposed to be able to open up about previously taboo subjects, but there's one glaring problem with that: they don't, and can't, ever get it. It's a natural reaction for empathetic people to want to fix broken things, but there is no fixing this.
I've been trying to take better care of myself these last few days. I need to lose weight, start eating right. Don't get me wrong, I'm under no illusion that lifestyle choices can somehow cure my depression. No, I need my meds. Sertraline and Mirtazapine: the Devil and the Angel - the bane of my existence and yet my saviour.
I'm going to have to power through, and hope for better days ahead.