The Blessings of Depression

I wrote the following post last week, after watching Steve Jobs' commencement speech for the 2005 Stanford graduate students. My psychiatrist had already told me to watch it, and when I learned Jobs had passed away, I decided to finally watch it.

Can anything good come out of depression? Will I look back to this time of my life, in the future, and acknowledge there was a purpose for a relapse? Does depression make me wiser? As I reflected on my life, I've come to realize there were things I would have never done, and people I would have never met, if it weren't for my illness.

This is a very long and personal post, and I hope it helps anyone out there who's also trying to connect the dots.


"All I can say, when I look back at my life, is that suffering from depression and going to medication and therapy at the age of 23 was the best - and most important - thing that happened in my life. Because I was sick and suicidal, all my family, which was highly dysfunctional and complicated at the time, went to therapy with me. My relationship with my parents, especially with my mother, improved 1000%. Moreover, had I not gotten sick and gone to therapy and medication, I wouldn't have realized that I wasn't happy, and that I needed to change that. I was engaged to be married at the time with someone who was insecure, possessive, jealous, controlling, basically mentally sick himself. As I got better and improved, I started to realize that that was not the life I wanted for myself. I broke up the engagement and, later on, the relationship, and lived the best 5 months I had ever lived in the past 4 years.

I started saving money to study abroad. That was the beginning of 2005. I was going to Australia, and had already talked to an agency and set up a savings plan to have all the money by the end of the year, when I planned to spend my summer vacation there. It would be my graduation gift for myself. I was going to finish my degree in December, I planned, and everything was going according to my plan. Then, on February of 2005, as I was watching the principal of the school where I worked give a speech to the students, a commencement speech, as February was the beginning of the school year, I suddenly felt like running away. I felt this desperation inside of me. I didn't want to be there. I didn't want to teach. I wanted to disappear. When I got home after work, I was sick of my stomach and couldn't eat. That was the beginning of my anxiety attacks. Back then, I didn't know, or I wasn't sure it was anxiety. So my mother took me to the doctor, he ordered a bunch of exams, including an abdominal ultrasound, and everything came back normal. We told the doctor I had depression the previous year, and he immediately stated that I should go see a psychiatrist.

My aunt, who is bipolar, told us about her doctor, so we went to see Dr. Athos, who became my psychiatrist and therapist for the following 2 years. My insurance didn't cover him, so all the money I was supposed to save for my trip went into paying my treatment. I saw the doctor weekly, and went back on medication, this time including Xanax. I had to postpone my graduation as well, because I didn't feel capable of doing all the courses and all the papers I needed to do in order to finish. It felt like a huge setback. I wasn't going to Australia. I wasn't going to finish college by the end of 2005. I kept my job as a high school English teacher, at least. Because I often couldn't sleep, I would stay up online on a chat program called ICQ. In that program, people could search for someone from a different country based on hobbies, interests, age, gender, etc. Someone from Canada added me. I saw it was a 30 year old guy named Patk (nickname). I almost didn't accept the friend request! But I did, and we started to chat. Soon he convinced me to chat on Microsoft Messenger, and to buy a webcam and microphone, so we could chat via skype as well. Our friendship wasn't romantic at all. I was interested in talking to someone whose native language was English, and he wanted to know about Brazil and Peru.

I told him about my getting sick and not being able to finish college and travel to Australia. He praised me because, from his point of view, I knew how to fail, which was important. The thing is, if I hadn't had a relapse and gotten sick again, I would probably have never met Patrick. He told me, later, that he added me on the chat program because he was searching for someone from Brazil to whom he could ask questions about the country, and someone who spoke English and who were online at the time he was searching. I would have never been online at that time of the night had I not been sick.

By the end of May 2005, Patrick and I had grown extremely close. We chatted on skype almost daily. He could see me on the webcam and vice-versa. He decided he was coming to Brazil in July, during my winter vacation, to visit me in person. He arrived on July 16 and spent 9 days in Brazil. I had a friend whose mother had a bed and breakfast in a nice tourist town close to my town, so it all worked out. He met my parents and, by the end of the 9 days, we acknowledged we were dating. He invited my friend and I to visit him in California for New Year's, and aided by my friend (who did all the work to get the visas done and the cheapest flight tickets), we made it to California in the end of December. I didn't go to Australia, but California was a much better destination. We spent 40 days here.

Patrick came to visit me on April of 2006, and I knew, by then, that something needed to happen. I didn't know what exactly. In the end of May, 2006, unhappy with my job, and almost done with university, I made a big decision. I called my parents into the kitchen in the evening and told them I had decided I was going to quit my job. They were surprised, but they supported me. I gave my notice at the school where I worked the following morning. Looking back, I know that was the right thing to do, but back then, when I didn't know what was going to happen, it was pretty scary, and I know I was being very brave. Patrick then told me I should come to America and spend the rest of the year there with him. I could become an au-pair and secure a year or 2 there, while we worked on our relationship. I knew we needed to live close to each other to see if our relationship was going somewhere. We had spent a year living 6 thousand miles apart. It was pretty crazy. By then I had been on medication for over a year and a half, and I told my doctor I wanted to stop. We compromised on a maintenance dosage and I traveled to America on August 2006. My father picked up my diploma for me in September. I didn't even go to my own graduation, but it didn't matter. I had finished my 8 years in college and I was done!

The rest of the story I might have mentioned already. We decided to get married. I went back to Brazil on December, 2006 to arrange the wedding; I was off medication for 2 months and all the agitation of getting married made me have a relapse. I was back on meds but I managed to continue on with our wedding plans. I traveled back to California in the beginning of February. We got legally married on February 15, 2007. I changed my visa status from tourist to Patrick's work-visa dependent, we went to Brazil in April and had our big wedding day with family and friends.

I've had amazing opportunities while living here since May 2007. My English has improved to the levels of high proficiency in all 4 skills; I've had the opportunity to take courses at Stanford; I lived for a year in lovely Los Gatos; I've realized I want to be a mother and for the first time felt prepared for it.

None of it would have happened had I not been sick. I wouldn't have realized that I wasn't happy. I wouldn't have searched for something else. I wouldn't have quit that previous relationship and I wouldn't have quit my job. I would have probably still been there today.

Right now I don't know exactly where the path is going to lead, but when I look back, I see it has all amazingly worked out okay. I had no idea, at the young age of 23, that I would be living in California, married to a Canadian computer systems engineer, and taking Classic courses and History courses at Stanford. If someone told me that, 7 years ago, I would have laughed. After all, I was engaged to someone else, I was a school teacher and made no way near enough money to travel abroad, and I had never heard of Stanford University.

So if I'm struggling with anxiety and depression now, there must be a purpose. I know I'll be able to connect the dots when I look back at this period of my life".

New month, new hope

My period came 3 days late and I cried silently as I acknowledged it's been 6 cycles (or 5 months) that we're trying to conceive. Granted, there were 2 cycles in which we couldn't try, because I was sick right on the fertile week, so I know it is still too early to freak out.

I've been feeling quite anxious, including at night. It isn't enough to prevent me from eating, but it is enough to disturb my sleep. Last night I was able to sleep without medication, so it was a good night.

I think Cymbalta is working. I'm not 100% yet, but I'm eating well, at least, and being able to cope without the aid of Clonazepan. I still want very much to get pregnant, and I feel frustrated and disappointed that it hasn't happened yet. Hopefully it will happen this month! Next week is my fertile week, so wish me luck! I'll try and do the ovulation test, to better pin point my most fertile day. I'm counting on those pregnancy hormones to make my serotonin super high. I need to hope it will work out well!

Limbo #2

I'm very anxious right now. I feel like I did absolutely nothing the whole day.
My period is one day late, but I don't think I'm pregnant. It would be ironic if I actually were pregnant 3 weeks after going back on medication.

I'm trying not to take Clonazepan, even though I know it would help me feel better. The last time I took it was Monday morning. I want to drink coffee, but I know coffee will just make me more anxious. Even decaf coffee has some caffeine in it. I've already drunk one this morning.

My classes at the continuing studies program were great. I already read the 3 chapters I'm supposed to read for next Monday's class. The French course on Tuesday was great, too. Very fun. I still feel anxious. Not enough to be sick of my stomach. Just enough to make me uncomfortable.

I have therapy today at 5pm. It is very hot now in Northern California. Late summer, as usual. We're almost in October. I feel I'm in limbo again. Waiting. Waiting. I'm trying to breathe deeply. I made myself some smoked salmon pasta for lunch. It was yummy.

I can hear the crows chirp outside. It falls into place now. It used to sound so odd. There are no crows where I come from. Here they're everywhere. There's a truck backing up. I can hear the beep, beep, beep. It is bright and sunny out. Apparently, it is going to rain next week. I can hear an airplane go by. My orchids need water. I don't feel like watering them. My basil plant is dead. Well, almost. End of basil season.

I've already gone for a walk this morning. Maybe I'll just lie down and try to sleep. Really? at 3:30 in the afternoon? feeling anxious? I want my period to come so that I know I'm not pregnant after only 3 weeks on meds. I haven't been to yoga in 2 weeks. I haven't even exercised this week, besides this morning. I don't know what else to say.

Back to 'almost normal'

On doctor's orders, I went up to 60mg of Cymbalta this past Monday. Clonazepan doesn't make me feel slow anymore. Best of all, if I take 0.5mg in the morning, when the anxiety is the worst, it calms me down and its effect lasts the whole day. So much better than Xanax! Look at me, I sound like a hypochondriac, loving medication!

Sometimes I wake up with this desperation inside me. Three deep breaths, it's just thoughts. I was never afraid of dying. All of a sudden, I think of death. Not in a suicidal way. Just death. What if I die? What's gonna happen next? What if my husband dies? my mom? my dad? More three deep breaths. I am not in control of the world's population. All I have is 'now' and, for now, I'm alive.

I lost so much weight since April that people are noticing. It should be a good thing, huh? Well, I'm 5'9", and have been slim all my life. Sometimes too slim. Before April, I was normal. No need to lose weight really. So people ask questions. I'm not sure what to say to justify losing weight, so sometimes I say the truth. Sometimes I just acknowledge it and let it pass. I spent last week on fruit smoothies, Greek yogurt, and chicken soup. Today I craved junk food, so I had a Big Mac. With large fries. Oh! It feels so good to eat.

My two continued studies courses at Stanford University start next week. I've thought of canceling one of them. Then I thought of canceling both of them. I can't concentrate. I'm afraid I won't be able to make it. I have one more full week to decide if I want to continue with them or not (and get a full refund).

So far I haven't noticed any side effects of Cymbalta. I'm not skipping and scampering like a happy lil' bunny either. I know antidepressants take time to work. 2 to 6 weeks. I'm back to eating, sleeping, functioning. Back to almost normal. Those 4 and a half months without medication were hard ones. I was never well. I was never happy. I may as well have to rely on medication forever. It sure sounds like a long time.

Crazy Poem

Clonazepan pan pan pan pan
I feel so numb, numb numb numb numb
Look at the sun, sun sun sun sun
I want to run, run run run run
It would be fun, fun fun fun fun

I feel so slow, so slow so slow
I'd love to go, just go go go
Somewhere with no no no no no
Anxiety.

Out of this body of mine.

Back on the chemical crutch

I started Cymbalta this last Monday. After having a crappy weekend filled with symptoms of excruciating anxiety, I decided it was enough.

Now, besides Cymbalta, I've needed some other help to get me by while thiS crisis last. I tried Xanax for the immediate anxiety, but Xanax wears off too fast, and then I need more. So doctor gave me Clonazepan. It knocked me down as soon as I took it lat night. I felt I was going to collapse. I took 1mg, plus 1/4 of a pill of Mirtazapine to help me sleep. It worked. I slept the whole night (i hadnt slept the previous night, even after taking xanax; I woke up at 3am and never went back to sleep).

This morning I was still feeling like a zombie, but the anxiety was creeping in and getting higher. I took 0.5mg of Clonazepan, which left me pretty sleepy and drowsy, but it wore off in a couple hours and anxiety hasn't come back full force yet.

I lost weight, as usual, but I've been trying to eat whenever my stomach lets me.

I've tried to find reasons for this current crisis, and the only thing that happened differently was my Kavinace (a supplement that supports GABA function) was over and I hadn't
ordered more on time so I ran out of it. I had noticed in the past that whenever I forgot to take Kavinace the night before, I would wake up more anxious, but I never thought it could cause that! And in fact, I've had crisis like that before even while taking Kavinace, so I'm
not sure.

All I know is that baby plans have come to a halt. Now I need to get better, take Cymbalta and make sure it is not aggravating my anxiety. And if I feel this horrible, horrible anxiety, I need to take Clonazepan and not be too afraid about it. I am afraid I'll get addicted and it
will be hard to stop and so forth. I took a high dosage of Xanax for 4 months once and it was
so hard to stop. It was horrible. Doctor says Clonazepan is better; less addictive, and its
calming effect lasts longer. Nevertheless, I felt like a zombie for most of the day today. I
felt I could barely function. Yesterday, without medication, I couldn't function either
because anxiety was just too overwhelming.

This has been a full blown anxiety attack as bad as the one I had in 2007.

So much for not wanting to take the drugs. Now I'm taking several. Hopefully just for the time being.

Next time

Period came today, and I am feeling okay with it. I had built up some anxiety about maybe being finally pregnant, but it seems that talking myself out of it by saying 'it is too early, it is nothing' worked out well. I am also glad I didn't go crazy buying pregnancy tests and testing away being only one day late. It would have been a waste of money.

Now I am going to have a sushi dinner, and be comforted by the thought that there is always a next time. Next month, or the following one, or the following and so forth.

I have an annual OBGYN appointment in October anyways, so I can talk about what to test/do from then on. Hubby will also have to go to his doctor and be checked.

Depression wise, I am still off medication, but I've been feeling all right. There are mornings in which I am very anxious. There are days in which I do not feel like doing anything. I know I need to relax, so let's see how I'll do these following months. Of course I feel sad that it's been 5 cycles already trying to conceive and nothing yet, but ... 5 cycles isn't very long. It may take 12 cycles, who knows? I have to live life in spite of that.