It has been a very long time since I have written anything. Here, or anywhere else really. Three months, in fact. And not wholly without reason. I hope this stint of writer's block, or whatever you want to call it, is coming to an end, and I figure I may as well start writing again by addressing what caused me to stop in the first place. In truth, it feels a little alien, since it has been so long, and I haven't even looked at my blog in this time, but it's a start.
I've never really had the best opinion of doctors. I don't mean surgeons and paediatricians, I mean standard GPs. The only time I have ever been to a doctor out of necessity was to have stitches removed from my leg, and even that I could have done myself. The other couple of times I have consulted my GP were for minor ailments, and consisted of waiting for a very long time in a room full of trashy magazines, to then be told by a very bored looking doctor that "it's probably stress, come back if it doesn't get better on its own." This advice, invaluable though it is, is widely available online. There are hundreds of websites dedicated to telling you that all the problems you have are stress related, and that you should just chill out. Taking heed, I didn't even bother registering with a doctor for several years.
Now, I've suffered from bouts of depression for as long as I can remember. But then again, who hasn't? Who doesn't feel like shit sometimes? I'm sure I'm perfectly normal, and there's no need to hear a doctor say it. The truth is, I'm not normal, at all. I'm well aware that I have OCD and anxiety issues. That being around people is sometimes just too much to handle. But I've learnt to live with it. Most of the time. A few months ago however, I realised that this particular "bout" of depression, this fog (for want of a more inspired metaphor) wasn't clearing, and actually seemed to be getting worse. As much as I enjoy spending entire days in bed watching DVDs, when it becomes routine, and the simple act of getting out of bed is exhausting and just not worth the effort, because, after all, there is no point to anything, it's probably time to consult a professional. So I finally dragged myself over to the surgery opposite my flat, registered (peed in a pot, answered uncomfortable questions), and eventually booked an appointment with the doctor.
Having studied diagnosis and treatment online beforehand, I was aware that a patient's level of depression is based on a short questionnaire, which essentially asks you the same thing in several different ways. I feel as though this is probably the least effective way to determine a patient's state of mind, but who am I to judge the medical profession? I was diagnosed with depression, and once I had gotten over this unexpected shock, I took the prescription and collected the medication.
I was started on 20mg of Citalopram, which several of my friends and family take and have had good results with. I was therefore also aware of the infamous list of side effects in the beginning, but this is a small price to pay if it makes me feel better, right? After a few days of constant nausea, loss of appetite, weight loss, tremors, headaches, feeling drunk and exhausted and a complete lack of sex drive, I was questioning this small price, and updating my blog was the last thing on my mind. You have to wonder, when antidepressants have warnings on the packet reading, may increase suicidal thoughts, just what the purpose of them is. But I don't like giving up, so I continued feeling like complete shit for a fortnight, before the side effects disappeared. But then I felt even more exhausted than before, which is essentially how I have felt for the last two months.
As much as I have kicked myself for spending days laid around trying to summon the energy to do something, anything, it hasn't been very successful. But without anything to get out of the flat for, I knew that a sudden uplift wasn't forthcoming. This was made all the more obvious when I went away for a few days to Paris (which I have every intention of writing something about shortly), where I found I had all the energy and enthusiasm in the world. But on returning to the monotony of my life in London, it disappeared. This only leads me to question how effective medication really is? Does it really have any effect at all? Or does it simply give people the illusion of feeling better through a placebo effect? After suffering the side effects aforementioned, I am led to the conclusion that it does something, perhaps just not what it is supposed to. I saw my doctor again a couple of days ago and told him that I wasn't feeling any different. I filled in the questionnaire again, he put me on 40mg, and told me to return in a month.
I knew from the start that medication is not a magic potion for curing depression. But then I've also heard from people taking Citalopram that it is a case of finding the right dosage for you. Since I am now on the maximum, if I don't feel any different in a month then there doesn't seem a whole lot of point in continuing with it. Maybe it's wishful thinking, but I am taking this motivation to update my blog for the first time in months as a sign that it may finally be starting to work. Here's hoping.
