As the Fog Lifts


Although I have been riding a high from having some of my major health problems cared for, I still feel like I’m in a bit of a fog. I feel so distant from the woman who was writing just a few weeks ago. Even though it’s only been a short time, I feel like I have to relearn some of the lessons I have learned before. Just a short time walking those well-trod paths of depressive thinking has made it more difficult for me to resist those paths. The medication will help tremendously, but I also have to put my skills back in practice, and relearn how to incorporate my responsibilities into my daily routine. In order to survive as painlessly as possible, I basically shut down for 2 weeks–primarily resting. This was fine for that amount of time as a stop-gap until I could see a doctor, but I am left with 2 weeks of catch-up work.

Something I’ve learned over the last 2 weeks is that I do need medication to survive. No matter the difficulty or cost, I have to have it at this point in my life. This isn’t a new lesson really, but one that I keep forcing myself to relearn. My depression lies to me about medication. At first it tells me I don’t need it anymore–I am well without it–then it tells me that my medication is only masking my true self. Finally, my depression tells me that it won’t help anyway; my demise is inevitable. My depressed brain will tell me anything to keep me from taking my medication, but I have to take it anyway. It is strangely difficult and a battle each day, but I’m committed to seeing it through.

Something else I’ve recognized is how many people have been praying for me and sending good thoughts from all over the country. My family and their friends in Texas, my friends in various states, and my friends and family in Washington have all been supporting me with kind words and encouraging messages. My church group prayed with me earlier this month, and I was really touched by their love and concern even though I am relatively new to their group. A sweet friend brought me coffee and a scone a week ago to bring me a little sunshine on a cloudy day. My husband didn’t complain about the messy house; he didn’t complain about my napping. He ran errands and cooked. He made phone calls and took me to my doctor’s appointment. It all made a difference; every comment or prayer made an impact. I was scheduled as soon as possible with a nurse practitioner who usually doesn’t take new patients. She spent 45 minutes with me talking and committing to working with me continually to maintain my health. She got me a referral to a psychiatric nurse practitioner who can work with me on a more specialized level. I was hoping to begin feeling better at the end of the month, but I am already feeling better by the middle of the month. Given how quickly I was sliding down, 2 more weeks could have done much more damage.

As the fog lifts, I’m sure I will return to my positive, loving self, but for now I feel more like a student. I have my books and counseling appointments, so now I just need to get back to living a life that fights depression rather than just hanging on. And I feel confident that I can make fast progress. Thank you to all of you who have been sending prayers and good thoughts. I plan to keep writing, so I hope you’ll keep reading.


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