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Depression Diary: The beginning

It’s been five days already since I have been diagnosed as “clinically depressed” with mild depression, and I’m not going to lie – life is shit right now.

I was prescribed Sertraline (aka Zoloft) and Alprazolam (aka Xanax), and the first day after I started taking the medication, my anxiety skyrocketed. At first, the WebMD-specialist in me thought it was because of the side effect of Sertraline. I even texted my psychiatrist to ask about potential side effect. I came to a conclusion through a conversation with my MD friend that it was likely because “shit” is getting real with me being “clinically diagnosed” and is now “on medication”.

Nevertheless, there are also some real side effects of medication that I really felt on the first few days and even now. Trembling and nausea are the two that gave me quite a bit of trouble. There was a day that I would like to practice handstand but my hands would be trembling quite a lot that I couldn’t properly hold. I also had days that I would like to eat and drink with my friends, but I felt so nauseous that I lost my appetite.

For the past days, I have been waking up with anxiety – heart sinking, being in a “bad” place. The only silver lining is that Alprazolam helped me get a decent enough hours of uninterrupted sleep so that I don’t have to live on Paracetamol. It takes me a fair bit of deep breathes, concentration, and “getting my shit” together before I could start my day. Everyday has now been a struggle.

One of the added “benefits” of this fxxking depression is my lost of motivation to do things I love. Although music has not been removed from my life, yoga and exercise which are my energy booster was completely erased from my daily life. I used to exercise 3-4 hours a day, but now 3-4 hours per week have become quite a stretch. A lot of guide to depression would say “you really need to push yourself to do it!”. I believe that, and I know that it’s a good thing to do. What those guide also right was that “it is also very hard to push yourself to do the right thing”. What this illness is also really good at is that it makes me feel I’m not in driver seat of my own life anymore.

My discussions with psychologists, while are very revealing, are also adding on to my anxiety. We have unearthed a lot of my past trauma, experiences, and many feeling that are troubling me and describe my “sink” and “void”. However, the tricky thing is also that now I have so many issues that I have to deal with and I don’t know how to address. I know the first step to any problem solving is to recognize the problem, but, at times like these, somehow I just wish there is a magic wand that I can just swing flick and remove all my problem.

Some people are asking or saying:

You are very brave to talk about this in public.

Thanks for being open about this.

How do you feel when you talk about this to other people?

Why are you talking about this openly?

You know what? I talked and I wrote about this publicly because it liberates me. I have always been perceived as a rather strong and grounded person- perhaps very guarded also. Shaking, weeping, and vulnerable have never really been the main words that people would describe me. However, those are what I’m feeling these days, and I want to say that out loud and perhaps people would say finally that: You are not perfect. You are not always strong. You are not always happy. You are vulnerable. And it’s okay.

I’m writing this in hope that, someday after all theses end, I will be able to look back, read, and smile and say to myself: I’m so proud of you for making it through. I hope that day is near.

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