Everyone has hard days. Days when they are in a funk. Days when you feel like you just aren’t quite right. I get that. But it had been too many days like that. I was waking up anxious. Usually it dissipated as the day went on. My response was to drag my bible over while still in bed and drink deep until I felt strong enough to get up and get going. That part was a gift of sorts. I would lean into God because I had to. Start my day in the posture of dependence. Usually the day would move on and be pretty much normal. But every morning it would start all over again. Some days it didn’t go away for longer. It started to have an affect on the rest of my day. Something needed to change. So I thought I’d go visit my gynecologist.
It wasn’t my first time I had gone in just needing to talk things out. Maybe my hormones were off. I was past menopause I think. I wondered if I should go on some kind of hormone replacement therapy. Let’s give that a try. I told him I was just tired of feeling this way and could he let me try something. He agreed and sent me out with a prescription for estrogen and progesterone. Since he didn’t test me for levels, he must have just given it his best guess. I don’t think he felt very optimistic. I thought maybe this remedy would help. Weeks went by. It didn’t. In fact things had grown worse with fear becoming forefront in my mind.
A few months later I went back in and had decided I wanted to try some kind of anti-anxiety/anti-depressant. I wondered if anyone else ever felt the way I did. How about Prozac? I had heard of others using this once coined “wonder drug” with great success. At least that is what we were lead to believe. Prozac is a selective serotonin reuptake inhibitor or SSRI, widely used as an antidepressant. It was originally also called the “happy pill”, was the first drug of its kind to be prescribed and marketed on a large scale. I didn’t like the idea but I was willing to give it a try. No medication like this should be used without things in place like counseling and other support. When he ripped off the prescription from his pad he said to me specifically, “if this doesn’t work you’re gonna need to see someone from mental health.” I was horrified at the prospect of going to see someone in mental health. What is that anyway? Doesn’t it mean I’m crazy? That’s what I thought. I had this nagging voice that kept saying it. Maybe you’re crazy. Crazy. Whatever that means exactly. But this next step horrified me.