Depression is a funny thing. There are so many different ways someone can be depressed.
For instance, I am definitely still depressed. But compared to how I was at this time last year, a bubbling ray of sunshine. I've been thinking about how far I've come over the past year lately. I'm embarrassed to tell people how bad I was. I hate admitting it to myself.
Last year was tough. I remember the different cocktails of meds I was put on in order to find something that would make me mood high enough to function. I remember wanting to give up. I remember giving up. I remember mentally completely giving up. For some reason, my body didn't so I made it through those days.
I remember being put on seroquel. Now, many people have wonderful experiences with this medication so I am no way saying it is a bad medication. Honestly, it probably saved my life. I was only on it for about a month. And quite honestly, it turned me into a zombie. I took it every morning and night in order to try and stabilize my mood and impulse. Which was 100% necessary at the time. I was trying to break my bones, self harming, binging and purging and coming up with elaborate suicide plans every day. However, the seroquel turned me into a zombie. Which was good, as it took away the little energy I had, so I didn't have any energy to self destruct. I was sleeping 18 hours a day if I wasn't working, 14 hours if I was.
I remember my work days that month. If I didn't call in sick I would wake up at 1:30 for my 2 o'clock shift. I would then roll around in bed for 15 minutes, through my uniform on, grab food and walk to work. I would drink a pot worth of coffee (which I got for free). I would binge and purge on my break, on my way home, and once at home. Then head back to sleep.
It was hell. I wasn't myself. But myself at the time was extremely dangerous. I would fall asleep thinking of all the ways I could kill myself, and had I had the energy, I might have done it. That seroquel helped. It kept me alive.
Then the Prozac started kicking in. My baseline increased. I was able to come off my seroquel and deal with my impulse. I still deal with the thoughts and impulse every day, but at least my baseline is high enough that I can trust myself not to stay alive. And last year, there's no way I could have said that about myself.
So I guess I have been getting better. It's been hard to see that as I've been rejected from treatment, feeling fat, spending some days in bed or self harming. But it has gone down so much since last year. So I am getting somewhere.
Slowly but surely.