tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6669706751961893887.post7863579139881518363..comments2023-06-01T07:19:59.626-07:00Comments on adventures in dating (and life) - single mommy style: Drug of ChoiceAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07333759149933371283noreply@blogger.comBlogger3125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6669706751961893887.post-63257715557296028722010-12-04T12:23:13.482-08:002010-12-04T12:23:13.482-08:00I too have suffered from it for most of my adult l...I too have suffered from it for most of my adult life. As a teenager, I developed a severe depression in Grade 11 and I dropped out of high school when I was sixteen. The depression was not diagnosed but, looking back, it was a classic case. I did not want to go out of the house, I cried all the time, I slept for hours and hours every day. My parents let me stay home from school, I guess that they did not know what else to do with me. I managed to keep some of my friends because I pretended that I was a rebel from school and it was not frowned upon to be a drop-out for a few months. By the end of the school year, I managed to get back to school and I was able to complete the year. I moved on and things were okay until 1976 when it happened again. This time was worse than the first time. I had panic attacks and I thought that I was dying. It went on for weeks and months but I kept functioning in my day to day life. It was hell but eventually it went away again. I had no idea that it was depression. I thought that it was just stress-related which probably accounted for some of it. <br /> <br />I had a few more episodes until finally in 1992, I realized that I was in terrible, terrible shape. I kept going to work but I feared the weekends because I was sure that I was going to die on the weekend. I thought that if I died at work it would be better because there were lots of people around. I sought out a new doctor because I felt that my family doctor was not taking my symptoms seriously. My new doctor recognized that I was suffering from depression rather than some undiagnosed illness. She sent me to a psychiatrist and I started going weekly. I was sure that they were going to lock me up but I only had to go for an appointment once a week. The doctor recommended Paxil and it worked right from the beginning although I did not feel noticeably better for quite a few weeks. I went to the psychiatrist for about five years until I felt that I was able to deal with everything. I am still taking Paxil. Several times, I have tried to wean myself away from the drug but I cannot function in this world without it. When I look back now, the things that resulted in episodes of depression were very serious matters. My father passed away, my mother then became an alcoholic, my sister died of cervical cancer, Earl’s cousin died from pancreatitis; those terrible events caused me to spiral into depression. I could never deal with the terrible things that happened. My mother could never deal with them either and I realize now that she suffered terribly from depression but she masked it with the alcohol.PetraZhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/15971905537235932041noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6669706751961893887.post-88077170924064890382010-11-25T12:48:10.481-08:002010-11-25T12:48:10.481-08:00I was looking at your blog today and I read the po...I was looking at your blog today and I read the post about depression. I too have suffered from it for most of my adult life. As a teenager, I developed a severe depression in Grade 11 and I dropped out of high school when I was sixteen. The depression was not diagnosed but, looking back, it was a classic case. I did not want to go out of the house, I cried all the time, I slept for hours and hours every day. My parents let me stay home from school, I guess that they did not know what else to do with me. I managed to keep some of my friends because I pretended that I was a rebel from school and it was not frowned upon to be a drop-out for a few months. By the end of the school year, I managed to get back to school and I was able to complete the year. I moved on and things were okay until 1976 when it happened again. This time was worse. I had panic attacks and I thought that I was dying. It went on for weeks and months but I kept functioning in my day to day life. It was hell but eventually it went away again. I had no idea that it was depression. I thought that it was just stress related which probably accounted for some of it. <br /> <br />I had a few more episodes until finally in 1992, I realized that I was in terrible, terrible shape. I kept going to work but I feared the weekends because I was sure that I was going to die on the weekend. I thought that if I died at work it would be better because there were lots of people around. I sought out a new doctor because I felt that my family doctor was not taking my symptoms seriously. My new doctor recognized that I was suffering from depression rather than some undiagnosed illness. She sent me to a psychiatrist and I started going weekly. I was sure that they were going to lock me up but I only had to go for an appointment once a week. The doctor recommended Paxil and it worked right from the beginning although I did not feel noticeably better for quite a few weeks. I went to the psychiatrist for about five years until I felt that I was able to deal with everything. I am still taking Paxil. Several times, I have tried to wean myself away from the drug but I cannot function in this world without it. When I look back now, the things that resulted in episodes of depression were very serious matters. My father passed away, my mother then became an alcoholic, my sister died of cervical cancer, Earl’s cousin died from pancreatitis; those terrible events caused me to spiral into depression. I could never deal with the terrible things that happened. My mother could never deal with them either and I know now that she suffered terribly from depression but she masked it with the alcohol. <br /><br />ConniePetraZhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/15971905537235932041noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6669706751961893887.post-28039951434298034382010-08-11T08:27:16.370-07:002010-08-11T08:27:16.370-07:00Oh my dear Catherine. I have so much to say about...Oh my dear Catherine. I have so much to say about this post that I'll never get it all in. This post is the depression talking, not you!<br />FIRST of all, you do feel, you feel more than most of us. Just look at your previous posts!<br />SECOND of all, depression and anxiety is an illness, caused by chemical imbalances. NOT by you. The paxil balances those chemicals out. No different than someone taking insulin to balance out their blood sugars.<br />THIRD you are NOT CRAZY!! I repeat: YOU'RE NOT CRAZY!<br />And Finally, I know how you feel. I get depressed too. I have been there, hiding in the house, ducking when I saw friends at the store so they wouldn't see me, not answering the phone, pretending I wasn't feeling well... The best advice that I had got from a therapist was: Today does not determine tomorrow. You got it out, and although it's heartbreaking to read, I think it's so good that you did. But... tomorrow is a whole new day. Don't project these feelings of sadness on the future. Yes, you might be sad tomorrow, and the next day, but the day after that might be full of joy. Ride the storm, but if you feel like you can't, go to the doctor and don't feel guilty about it. This is not your fault.<br />You are beautiful, and funny, and a super mom. Most of our mom's were basket-cases when we were growing up, too, but we knew they loved us - just like Quinn knows the same. <br />xoxox GayleGayle Jeanhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/07521986798396206117noreply@blogger.com