Lexapro - More like LexaNO

My adventures in mental health started long before I even knew about it. I really can't remember when any particular symptom started.

Sometime in 1996, I think, I noticed depressed feelings. Depressed feelings that were incredibly strong.

Years later, I realized I had clinical depression. It was the only way to explain why this horrendous feeling kept returning. I felt like I couldn't win. Just when things felt better - WHAM! Not anymore.

A little over a year ago, I agreed to start taking anti-depressants. I was starting a new, highly stressful job, planning my wedding, and I had had problems with depression and anxiety for too long.

Initially, Lexapro was fabulous. Everything had been so bleak - the smallest confrontation or tough task felt insurmountable and overwhelming. Suddenly the bleakness was gone. I could handle things. I still could feel bad, sad, and other feelings, but I could handle life better.

Then it seemed to wear off. Like it stopped working. So we upped the dose. That didn't make a dent. I stopped taking it.

I tried Zoloft. Not much better. No feelings of relief of any kind. And the suicidal ideation was painful. I'd dwell on not wanting to exist. Therefore, the Zoloft could not possibly be working. So I stopped that one too. Sometime last summer.

I took a few months off, thinking that maybe I could handle life without the pills. I couldn't. By November, I had looked into information about different drugs for depression. I asked my physician about Wellbutrin. It is different from Lexapro and Zoloft because it is not an SSRI. I thought maybe it would work better because it was a different approach.

Nope.

In fact, it made me so dizzy, lightheaded, confused, and nauseous, that within a month I was throwing up regularly. And I was having raging fits over almost nothing. Like my dog pulling on his leash. I wanted to throttle the poor little guy. Though thankfully, I never have. Despite repeated temptations. After spending a whole day in the bathroom praying to the porcelain God, I called my doctor and threw in the towel. I had had enough.

I wanted no more of this. Ever.

But of course, that was not an option.

Soon, I spiraled downward. I came to the swift realization I could not do without treatment. And my fiance and I started talking. He'd heard from his sister that she thought I sounded an awful lot like someone with bipolar disorder.

That sounded frightening. Worse than depression, certainly. The taboo was ridiculous. Apparently, I'm a bit paranoid when it comes to what others think of me. Oh well.

So, here we begin.