Thursday, March 9, 2017

The Fluffy Side of Sanity

I take an anti-depressant.  I have for about 2 years.  I was leery at first that the pill would help me handle the myriad of troubles in my life.  I was pretty clear about that, it wasn't me, it was him.  And therein lay the problem.  I was miserable and I saw no relief, no way to change or improve my situation.  In fact, it seemed to me that every effort I made just made things measurably worse.  I could sit and cry, I prayed, but it seemed to me there was no way out.

That pill changed my life.  I could think clearer.  I could take action instead of cry about things.  I could recognize the injustice of my situation and make plans for change.  Going to counseling helped.  A. Lot.  But, the pill helped me pull my brain back together and become myself again. I didn't feel hopeless and helpless and wish for a superhero to come rescue me.  I could do it myself, thank you very much.

Ultimately, I ended my marriage.  I have only recently come to recognize that I never loved the person I married in any way except pity.  I wanted to love him, to be a partner to him, but time and time again I learned that I could not trust him with my heart, with my dreams, with my life.  And at the end of the day, when you are "married" to a critical perfectionist who doesn't love honestly and isn't willing to compromise, that marriage is a sham.  I thought I could change him, or grow to love him.  Bottom line is, I didn't.

Ultimately, I neither trusted him nor loved him in any way except sorrow.  The way I described it was that he got worse and scarier and scarier.  I think that is to some extent true.  But, I also got older and less fearless against threats.  I felt manipulated, controlled and lied to. I came to the dawning realization that nothing would change and I couldn't change enough to be happy in the situation. It is hard to find love in continual pain.  Through the decades I tried every "fix" that I could find, but ultimately, I became depressed because I felt trapped in a situation of my own making that was detestable to me.  I didn't want to kill myself, I wanted to run away.

So, here I am two years into pills.  I am happier, saner, and more secure than I have been in a long, long time.  I don't miss him at all.  I feel such relief when I encounter problems and I get to work to solve them.  But, I am considering, actually, I am planning to try to stop the pills here pretty soon.  I have been encouraged by my counselor and my medical doctor that I could probably do it.  I worry a little that I might revert to the crier I was or panic or have anxiety.  But, I think I have skills to handle this now.

When I think about having the life I now have and not needing anything to sustain me, to keep my emotions in check, I would describe it like floating on air.  It is the fluffy side of sanity.

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