I didn’t want to.
I thought I knew why.
A. has been trying to encourage me to take medication. She hasn’t been pressuring me, but trying to be supportive and helpful. She has told me that she has seen the most success with medication for those who have suffered with depression for a long time like I have.
I don’t use medication much for anything. I have a passion for more natural ways first.
Therapy is hard, harder than I was expecting. But isolation and keeping it all inside has consequences too.
My husband told me that I have been struggling for so long that maybe I should try medication, especially since I am going to therapy as well. I saw his point and agreed to try medication.
I called a psychiatrist that A. recommended and made an appointment. The appointment wasn’t for several weeks. During the Christmas holidays I didn’t see A. for ten days and struggled a lot during this time. I became very overwhelmed and felt like no amount of medication could possibly touch the pain of the loss or trauma in my life. I got scared and called and canceled the appointment.
When I saw A. the next time, I talked to her about the struggles I was having and that I canceled my appointment. She was very understanding. She understood my mindset at the time. And then she began to talk to me about the struggles I am having and told me that medication is not going to do anything for the pain I have inside. It won’t touch that. But what it will do is help with my motivation and the feelings of being stuck. It will help me with the parts of depression that keep me immobile and paralyzed. I am sure both A. and my husband had said this to me before, but this time I heard her.
I have been having a hard time believing that the severe depression and complex PTSD are real. Nothing that has ever happened to me has been real to anyone, so it messes with my own reality.
But I was able to relate to the “feeling stuck.” These feelings are very real to me. I beat myself up everyday because of them. I didn’t know that this was a part of depression, I just thought I was failing as a person. This has been going on for too many years to count. So when she told me that, I could see how medication could be helpful to me. She told me that I am trying to do something I can’t do most likely because of an imbalance of the chemicals in my brain that the medication can help with.
So I told her that I would call and reschedule the appointment. I will not try to question my own struggle or pain. I can hold on to the fact that medication can possibly help with the quality of my life in ways I haven’t experienced for so long. For the rest I will trust her to know what she is talking about.
Since I called to reschedule the appointment, a lot of feelings have begun to arise inside of me.
It has forced me to face that I am mentally ill and the stigma that goes with that.
I have spent my life wearing a mask and appearing fine. Taking medication is blowing the roof off of my cover. It is forcing me to acknowledge to myself that I am NOT okay. This has been very painful and not easy, not when you have spent your life trying to convince others that everything is perfect.
It has caused me to become angry with all those who have hurt me, betrayed me, abandoned me, have sacrificed me. After all that I have been through and endured, this is what I am left with? Something feels VERY cruel about all of this. When I could hide it all, I didn’t have to face these feelings in this way.
It has caused me to be angry with society. I won’t even begin to mention the things that have been said to me, things that were hurtful and painful. I say this for myself and everyone else who has been abused.
Think about it for at least a few moments.
I am sure many people reading this wonder when am I (or others) going to ever get over this. If you were honest with yourself, I am sure many people have thoughts at times that are less than compassionate. But I will tell you what, no one has even thought these things toward those who hurt us, not in their daily lives. Others didn’t even believe us. The abusers aren’t thought badly of on a personal level. They don’t receive pressure to be different.
Something seems terribly wrong with all of this.
I am angry that as a society, the pressure always is put on the victims. Maybe each one who thinks or says something that is hurtful and not supportive thinks that it is just their thoughts or their feelings, without a clue of the many countless before them who have done the same. We have been publicly humiliated. Not the perpetrators, but the victims. And it just all adds to the pain we already have.
I can guarantee you that each and every person who has been abused has received far more pain from others than they have help. And very few perpetrators pay at all. Most become bolder and more arrogant in their pursuit for more victims. And everyone wonders why we are not better by now.
When someone has been held in captivity for years or even months, all of society looks at them with such awe of how they possibly survived. They instinctively know that it is going to be a long and painful process getting their lives back. Yet victims of sexual abuse who are held in captivity, many of us for years, get silence. More often than not, we receive no support. Many of us are treated with cruelty.
We already feel less than, we loathe the pain inside of us, we detest this struggle.
Something isn’t right.
I didn’t want to take medication.
I didn’t want to be abused, neglected, betrayed.
I didn’t want to admit the severity of the pain inside of me. Mostly because there was nowhere I could turn throughout my life where the tragedies were real to anyone.
I didn’t want to experience the silence from others.
I didn’t want to receive all the cruelty from others in response to the horrible things that I went through.
I didn’t want to know that the world doesn’t care if a little girl is sexually abused for years.
I didn’t want to know that the world doesn’t care what a man does to his wife and children.
I didn’t want to know that the world doesn’t care if a woman is raped.
I didn’t want to experience the lack of support in my life.
I didn’t want to be alone with all of this.
I didn’t want to face this pain.
But I have experienced all of this and here I am speaking about what no one wants to hear or see or know.
I have to take my head out of the sand, I am forced to see and feel and know that the unimaginable happened and it has damaged me.
And now I don’t want to face my own feelings about what taking medication says about me, and I don’t want the cruelty of others about it either.
But maybe we all need to face it. When it comes to abuse and mental illness, compassion is at a deep deficit!
I didn’t want to be in this place in my life that has caused me to write any of this.
I didn’t want to!