In the Better Days

So here I am- two weeks later, and back with another blog post! Am I going to stay consistent with these now? Who knows. I do know that for the last two weeks I have been slowly gaining more motivation to do things. Even though my lexapro is still not fully in effect, it disrupted the anxiety/panic attack cycle. That alone has made my life massively more enjoyable.

In the last two weeks, I have been more social than I have been in months. A couple days ago, I ate three full-sized meals throughout the day (because I had the energy to make them, and no nausea from anxiety!). I actually have a good appetite again, and I am very happy about it. I also have been doing my makeup in the morning more often. I have been sleeping better, and waking up earlier. There have been SO many positive changes. 

I have been spending a lot more time with my amazing brother (love you, Kev!), his awesome girlfriend, and his new roommate. We have watched movies together (if you haven't seen Prey yet, you need to) and played Mario Party (I swear I will win eventually!). I also got to see one of my best friends a couple times. 

For the first time in a while, life has just been good. It feels like my brain is quiet, tranquil. I'm not constantly going in circles about something that may or may not happen in the future. Not worrying about everything all the time.

I am dancing. I am singing. I am laughing. I'm looking at things from a glass-half-full perspective now. Hopefully things will continue to go in this direction. I am sure there will be some bumps in the road- there always are- but I feel confident things will still be mostly good.

Before I wrap this up, I want to include something not so great that happened to me today. Even though it's unrelated to my mental health journey with lexapro, it still is something that affects my mental health in a way. Today I went to the local coffee shop, and I opened the door for myself. Often times people are very nice and open the door for me, but of course, I am able to do it myself. The door is ADA compliant, as most doors are, or at least should be. As I opened the door, an older woman said to me, "good girl." 

I am not a dog. I do not need praise for completing extremely basic tasks. I am a grown-ass woman. A badass woman. I happen to be disabled, yes, but that does not make me less than an able-bodied person. So stop fucking patronizing us. I am not an animal. I am not a child.

I wanted to include that so that hopefully other people can learn from it too. We all have a lot to learn. 

I would like to leave this post on a good note, so I will finish by saying this: Life can always get better. Even when you feel like giving up, know that there really will be better days ahead. I know because I am in the better days.

Little Miss Lexapro

Almost two years ago, my life changed. I moved halfway across the world, back to my hometown. As if that wasn't enough, I also experienced the greatest heartbreak of my life thus far. I was broken, but I got better.

I was on antidepressants for a little over a year, but have been off of them for about 10 months. They saved me. I lost myself, and they helped me find my way back. I took them for the deep depression I had been in. I am not depressed anymore. Not like that. I am happy to be alive. Yet at the same time I have not been happy.

Instead, I have been anxious. Approximately four months ago I had the first of many panic attacks in a long time. It lasted a whole day, and even when the panic attack stopped, the anxiety didn't. After some days, it faded. Maybe it was a couple weeks, I don't really remember. Since that time I have consistently been having panic attacks and anxiety pretty much every week.

Most of the anxiety revolves around my health. I don't know how to stop it. I sprained my knee a few months ago and then pulled my back muscles at the same time. I felt so awful, it sent me into a spiral. I went to the hospital for muscle spasms, and they were concerned I was having a relapse of Transverse Myelitis. I was not worried about it, but it was still stressful. The MRI tech went home already so they decided to give me a CT scan. On that scan they found a nodule in my lung. Another thing to worry about. 

If it's nothing, it's nothing. If it's something, it's probably cancer. That's scary, but they said there was a 90% chance it was nothing. You cannot give those odds to someone with a rare disease. I have beat odds before. In bad ways and good ways. Percentages don't mean shit to me. Somehow I didn't let myself obsess over it.

Two months later, I got another CT scan. "The nodules look good. No cause for concern," they said. Nodules. Plural. There was only one on the previous scan. I pointed out that fact, and was told my scans would be sent to a pulmonologist for review. Cue me worrying. After a couple long days, my amazing doctor (really, she is incredible already just as a resident) called me at like 7PM and told me that everything truly was good. Turns out the first scan just cut off before the other nodules could be seen. They likely were there all along, and are so small that they don't think they are anything to worry about. Relief. Or so you'd think.

Recently I had a migraine that caused temporary kaleidoscope vision and peripheral vision loss. It was terrifying. I felt like I couldn't catch a break. It's like my body hates me. I started to feel lost again. This time, not in depression, but anxiety. I didn't feel like myself at all. I was consumed by the anxiety and panic. I finally broke.

It's been a week since then. I called my doctor and immediately started back on my antidepressants. They work for anxiety too. Hopefully I will notice the full effect in a month or so. The side effects have actually already inadvertently helped with my anxiety. Can't have intrusive, obsessive thoughts when you are spaced out. Or when you are so nauseated all you can think of is trying not to vomit. Today the nausea finally calmed down. I have an appointment with my doctor in the morning, where I will ask her to help me find a new therapist. I feel optimistic for the first time in a while. I am feeling like I'm getting myself back.

I think the main thing I have come to realize with all of this is that I might just be a lexapro lady. I stopped taking it because I felt like I had something to prove. I wanted to show myself that I didn't need medicine to be happy, but off of it I felt like my brain wasn't mine anymore. 

It's okay if I need the medicine. I don't need to prove anything to anyone. I take medicine for my bladder, and I've never felt like I needed to prove my bladder worked just fine without it. So why do that with my brain? I need the stability that lexapro provides me, so that I can enjoy life and live in the moment. It's okay. I'm not broken. I just need a little help, and I am glad I am finally accepting that help again.