I really felt guilt most of all. Guilt that I couldn't just snap out of it. Guilt that my faith wasn't strong enough, or that I wasn't praying the right way, or that I had generally failed to do whatever it took for God to magically make me better.
But I took them. I felt hopeless and I couldn't keep going to way I was. I've never seen suicide as on option because I'm not willing to rip apart the lives of the people I love, and it became clear that an accidental death wasn't going to claim me as I had begged it to.
So I took the drugs.
My counselor said that we would try Paxil first and that if that didn't work we would try something else.
At first nothing really happened so my doctor decided to up my dose. Something definitely happened then.
For about two weeks I experienced what my counselor referred to as hypomania.
All I wanted to do was run around out side. To climb and jump and skip. Things that terrified me before were now adventures. I climbed swing sets and did flips on the trampoline.
I felt alive.
There was a dangerous side to it as well. Without fear I cut myself for the first time (something that I had imagined a million times in my depression but never had the courage to follow through with).
Fortunately I did level out after that.
I was myself again. Things seemed possible and life just wasn't so hard.
With the relief the Paxil gave me I was able to do the things I needed to really address the depression. I went to the gym. I became active. I ate well, I formed new friendships. I had adventures. I went back to school. I prayed. I read. I worshiped. I wrote. I lived.
I didn't take them very long but it was enough to change how I see emotions and how I see medication.
So this time, although I still feel guilty, I'm taking my meds with hope and I am so excited for the chance to transform myself again.
It should be a wild ride.
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