Circling the Drain

Today I'm swirling around the black pit. 

I went out to a doctor appointment yesterday.  I sat in my car afterward, recuperating.  I ran an errand, then I sat in my car recuperating.  Ran one more errand, sat in my car some more to rest.  These small efforts at interacting with people were exhausting.  A doctor appointment and two quick errands took me 4.5 hours.

I noticed, too, that everything I did yesterday was slow. 

I am known in my family for my speedy driving habits.  I meticulously keep my speed to nine miles above the speed limit, because someone once told me I wouldn't be pulled over unless I went ten miles over the speed limit.

Dear God, I found myself driving 45 in a 55 mph zone and 50 in a 65 mph zone.  I am surely sick.

I'm even walking slowly.  More like a shuffle.

And today I started New-Medicine-Number-2.

You have no idea how demoralizing this is. 

Starting New-Medicine-Number-2 just means that New-Medicine-Number-1 didn't help.  It took almost a month to decide that New-Medicine-Number-1 hasn't helped.  That's because of the nature of these medications. 

These meds attempt to change brain chemistry.  That can't just be accomplished by taking the pill for a few days.  It can take weeks for the medication to get into the brain and then to build up to therapeutic levels. 

Apparently, New-Medicine-Number-1 has had a sufficient trial of four weeks, so it's time to move on.

Imagine if you were subject to physical pain and had to wait four weeks just to see if a new medicine would help.  Then another four weeks for the second new medicine. 

I have already been off of work for a month.  I feel my new career as a Peer Specialist slipping away.  I hope that's just my illness causing me to think that way, and that I can return to this job.  After all, this job is why I left my high-paying IT job to work in low-paying social services.

Now, I have to wait for New-Medicine-Number-2.  To see if it will work, or not.  In the meantime, my caseload at work waits.  God bless my clients.  I can only hope that this latest episode of depressive disorder will help me to understand my clients' illnesses even better.

But, my God, this sure gets old.