This post is part of a series: Here are part 1 and part 2, if you want to start from the beginning.
Before I get into the treatments I went through for my depression, I want to reiterate something since some folks have asked, after reading parts 1 and 2, if I am doing OK. I am. My depressions each winter get lighter and lighter, which I'll get into in a later post. Dan mentioned the metaphor of a roller coaster that is evening out. Slight dips rather than chasms, now. The reason I am writing about this now is twofold. One is that I feel a discussion about mental health is long overdue in our culture. All I have to contribute to that discussion is my own experience, which will differ greatly but also probably have a lot in common with other people who have had my type of mental illness. The second is that I'm finally ready to write about it publicly, because my remission is going as well as it is, and my symptoms are pretty stable.
My first round of treatment was a low dose of Celexa, which I now refer to as tic-tacs. Any effect I had from the first dose level was placebo effect, and I didn't do very well during the 2001-2002 school year at college. Incidentally, this was during the time that I turned 21 and was drinking more often than I had previously. When my parents helped me move out at the end of May, I was in pretty bad shape. This was my first major depressive episode. That summer, while living at home and working full time, I began seeing a therapist who, while being a bit of a quack regarding thought-field-therapy, did teach me some ways to think about my thoughts and identify them as being "child" thoughts, "adult" thoughts, or overly critical "parent" thoughts. (The second of the three is the most useful for decision making.) She helped me talk to my parents about how we communicated with each other, along the lines of "When you say this, I hear that." She taught me some simple relaxation/meditation practices which I used as needed. TFT was bunk, so I didn't do that at all after I stopped seeing her, but the rest was helpful. She also recommended that I see my doctor for a dosage increase of the Celexa because I was having trouble managing my thoughts and mood. It helped clear the fog a little. It helped me have a little more control over whether I would burst into tears immediately after thinking or talking about something that upset me. It did not help me haul my butt out of bed. I think at some point here we added Wellbutrin to the mix to help manage my lethargy, but I can't remember exactly when that was.
Some time the following fall or early winter, and I'm not exactly sure when it was, I was switched from the combination of Celexa and Wellbutrin over to Effexor. During the fall 2002 semester, I was living off campus with friends, and once again failing my classes. We were only about 2 or 3 blocks from campus, but as I've mentioned, Moorhead winters are rough. It was also during this time that I had my first somewhat serious boyfriend, who was very sweet but couldn't really cope with my depression. So we were on-again-off-again for a little while. Alcohol was a coping mechanism for part of this time, except that it just made things worse. I had a therapist, but the appointments were across town and only every other week, and I missed a few besides. She mainly focused on substance abuse, and wanted me to work a 12 step program with my depression, which wasn't really possible in the midst of the depression. This was my second major depressive episode, and at New Year's my parents helped me withdraw from school and move back home for good. I needed help and support that roommates, busy with their own academic and social lives, couldn't really be asked to provide. If you ever hear me refer to "the bad time," I mean either this time or the one before it.
Moving home and ceasing to be a college student at age 22 meant that I lost my insurance coverage as well. Luckily my amazing doctor was able to keep me in samples of my medication for the 6 months before I had a job with benefits. I started temping, and my second temp job was a temp-to-hire receptionist gig where they decided to hire me. It was only $10 an hour but the benefits were amazing. Eventually I was promoted to an office assistant and made $12.50 per hour before any raises. I stayed there for several years, during which time I moved into my own apartment, went back to school, dated a few guys, met and married my husband, and eventually quit to pursue other things.
It was a good job for what it was, but in the end, it became a somewhat toxic environment for me, which I did explain in my exit interview. Essentially, I had an absentee boss (through no real fault of her own) and no one picked up the slack to support my team, except to tattle on us if they thought we were screwing up. I decided at that point that clerical positions really weren't for me; I was sick of being treated like a child or a criminal or an incompetent just because of my job title. People in sales and management pay a lot of lip service to how great their admin staff is, but there is a disconnect between how people talk and how they actually treat their staff.
During this time I did have a slight relapse, in late 2005, which didn't help with my relationship with the rest of the office. Dan moved in with me about 6 months before we got married, because I needed someone to help me haul my butt out of bed in the morning, and it was either that or leave my apartment to live with my parents again. We decided that it would be better to just try to move forward with our lives together rather than have me move back, since we already were engaged and had set our wedding date. I was switched from the Effexor over to Cymbalta plus Wellbutrin, which helped a lot. The combination of chemicals affecting seratonin, norepinephrine, plus dopamine really kicked my depression out for a long time. Dan didn't drink any alcohol so I kind of quit that by default as well, which helped, too. I'm not supposed to drink with my medications anyway. I still have a drink or two on rare occasions, but several months will go by where I haven't had a drop.
I stayed at that company for about another year, until well after we were married, and then left thinking I'd either go back to school or find another job. I ended up temping for a banking company for just under a year, and then tried to make a go of a small business (Auntie Mel's Gifts) in 2008. It didn't work out, but I learned a lot.
In the fall of 2009, I made a decision to really get my professional life together. I looked at which college courses I had the most of, and how quickly I could get a degree of any kind. I settled on accounting, figuring that it was the sort of thing that people always need and that I could do taxes part time part of the year after we had kids. Plus, I was good at math and paperwork and had already had taken a year of accounting courses at Concordia. I plotted out my courses and figured it would take me 2 regular semesters plus one summer term. I also began seeing a therapist again to help manage my stress and make better plans for managing my time.
I probably got pregnant my first week of school. We had been "not NOT trying" for a couple of years, but of course, nothing happened until I had other plans. Ha. When I found out in October that I was due in June, I decided to try to get done what I could, and figure out the rest later. I had to go off the Cymbalta and instead take a low dose of Zoloft. The majority of my pregnancy was spent just trying to keep my head above water. I continued to see my therapist. I tried to reduce my dose of Wellbutrin (with my doctor's supervision) and couldn't cope without it. Spring semester I ended up having to withdraw from all my classes except one--I just couldn't keep up. The day after my final in that class I was put on bed rest for toxemia. I got an A.
Stay tuned for part 4: Motherhood.
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