What No One Wants to Talk About

Okay, I’ll warn you now. This is a serious thread. I’m going to ramble for a bit. So, if you are not for the melancholy, sign off now.

I saw the doc, and I’m on Cymbalta. I’m on my second day. I have to admit, other than being a little jumpy, the side effects are minimal. I’m a little tired-er in the morning, but once I have my caffeine I’m raring to go. Now, I’m still a little nervous, anxious, whatever, when I get up. But, I know from experience that takes weeks to really subside. But does it?

Now, I told the dr. that when I was on Effexor I gained about 30 lbs. He assured me that this was different, that this helps with impulses. But from a few things I’ve read on the internet is that the two drugs are somewhat similar and therefore, weight gain is not that uncommon. Hmmm...we’ll see at the end of the month.

I like Dr. Duany. He’s been in the family for 20 years now. And he tells it like it is. Basically if things around here aren’t going to improve, then drugs alone aren’t going to help. I see the point. But instead of changing the situation, I’m just looking to deal with it, to change my attitude about it. Does that make sense? I don’t really like taking any kind of drugs, but I think I’m smart enough to know when I can’t do it alone. And of course, the whole family history thing comes into play, which is why drugs weren’t entirely ruled out.

So it gets me thinking. Where does family history come into play? How do I know I’m not going to go off the deep end? Be in and out of the psycho ward, like my mother has more times than I can count. Every time something like this comes up, when I get a little unbalanced and realize I need help, I ask myself, is this it? Is this where I become my mother??? How do I know if this is just a bump in the road, or the beginning of the end?

Mental illness is hereditary. That’s a proven fact. My mother was only a little younger than me when first diagnosed with manic depression. I’m sure my grandmother had it too. She displayed all the classic symptoms. But she lived in an age and time when that kind of thing wasn’t even talked about, much less accepted. And even, today, it’s hard to discuss. When I have to say I’m sick with a cold, instead of telling my supervisor why I’m really going to the doctor. Because of the stigma. The stigma that mental illness has, even now in 2007.

The truth is I’m scared. Scared of becoming the person I’ve tried so hard to separate myself from. The person who could not hold a job, raise a child, function in society. Am I destined to become just like her???? Or can I fight destiny? And by taking pills, am I helping myself, or am I just falling into a hole?