I have to say, being on Prozac has helped dramatically. I was originally prescribed five (!) different meds, but am now down to just one. I don’t even have to take Buspar for anxiety. Relief!
NOW! On to the truth about how I got on these in the first place: depression and anxiety go hand in hand for many people, and I was no exception. I had the occasional zing of anxiety, but it got much worse over the past two years or so.
I was in a pretty good place up until then, publishing regularly, writing daily, traveling, just enjoying life…until I heard about my cousin, Darryl.
Well, first, I felt a horrific pang of dread one night during Mardi Gras. It got worse during the night, so much so that I got up and cried in the bathroom. I had no idea what was wrong, but this happened to me several times before when someone close to me died.
The next morning, I got the call from Dad: Darryl, my cousin, had committed suicide.
How many of you have had a terrible feeling that someone died, and it turned out to be true?
Like me, Darryl had to take care of a sick parent. Like me, he didn’t take it so well when their illness took over. I knew how he felt. I went through the same thing with my mom, so seeing him so upset over his dad really got to me.
This and several other issues led him to take his life. But why was I given this flash of dread? Was it to warn me? Make me try to reach out to him?
I still don’t really know, and I’m still trying to make peace with it.
Losing my grandfather was also a real blow, and seeing my grandmother slide further into dementia isn’t easy, either.
But, this is life. You lose people you love and you go forward and do the best you can. It is nice to know, though, that there is a nice little pill I can pop until I work out all this yuckyness–and something that helps me focus on my writing and work.