Depression, Etc. (#24): What I Know

About a week ago I had a pretty tough bout with my depression. I think a large part of my depression relapse and GI problems have to do with my withdrawal from Cymbalta. It's like hell trying to come off of it completely. With the help of my psychiatrist, therapist, friends, and family, I'm determined to do this. I'm on Lamictal and a very small doseage of the generic Prozac. I've been taking Dicyclomine to help with the GI stuff. At night I take Lunesta or Ambien CR to help me sleep. I think my road to getting off of the sleep meds is a ways off, but it might happen too.

My psychiatrist has suggested silent meditation for me, since it will help me face my emotions. Silent meditation is one of the most difficult types for me. I've tried it before at a meditation center in Boulder, CO and thought I would jump out of my skin. The silence can be unbearable. Still, this meditation breaks through a wall of pain. Silence is, often, unwanted in the United States. Americans like the quick fix and I can be just as much of a sucker for that.

What I really wanted to talk about is that last week I was crying at the most random times. Matt and I went for a walk to exercise and also to get some green tea for me. My sadness kept taking over and I cried at least twice on our walk. Trying to formulate words that I wanted to say was kind of like lifting a 10,000 pound rock over my head.

During that week I took a shower and began crying. By now I was sitting down and it took all of my strength to pull myself up and out of the shower without crying or falling down. I kept hearing this voice from deep inside of me repeating you're going to get through this, you're going to get through this. I've gotten through times of horrible depression before, but where did this voice come from? I sense that it comes from a wise part of my soul. Depression can make me feel ugly, unloved, tortured by pain and shame. This voice in my head was almost to much to bear because it was so beautiful and clear. And beautiful and clear are not words I would use to describe the thoughts in my head. Usually, it says hey, ugly stupidhead. Because of head games it's hard for me to want to get better, since I tell myself that I will have to be "happy," put on my mask again. I know this isn't reality. Just as my wise voice comes from my soul, my negative thoughts are in my head.