Elephant in my blog living room

I see 106 posts on my blog since its beginning a year or so ago. Always, a huge piece of my picture I have left out. Why? Fear. It is unspoken but with a hand full of those in my herd. I fear being judged. i fear the stigma. I fear feeling less than. My excuse is often that I do not want newcomers around my twelve step program to see a pill as a quick fix for this elephant. Get into the 12 steps first. The real reason for not telling is the maybe only self imposed stigma.

I have chronic depression. With the steps and later the outside help we call therapy, the truth unfolded. I can see cycles of depression all the way back to adolescence. My annual Social security reports about income and how much SS we can receive if we retire - well, they show a history of major ups a downs in income. From 175K to zero. One year 25K and two years later 80K.

When first i was diagnosed with depression, I had been largely unable to leave the house for near a year. It felt like slogging through mud - everyday. Not suicidal, but mental and physical lethargy. Everyday. Income was zero that year. I seldom answered the phone nor the door. I lived alone and stayed alone - isolation. Looking back It is difficult to believe how deeply the heaviness glommed onto my entire being.

I saw my GP in about 2002, described what I felt and he suggested Paxil, an antidepressant. I had known for years that something was wrong, but denial is not a river in Egypt. I did not want to have depression and I had even ridiculed those who had it. I once made fun of a guy who talked about his suffering, and a couple months later he was dead. Okay, I did not cause his death, but perhaps I threw another rock into the bag that weighed him down. I now feel empathy and sorrow thinking of him.

The Paxil made a difference immediately. I got my life back. 9 months or a year later, I figured I did need it anymore and tapered down to zero. For a few months I was okay but then . . . the mud gradually got thicker and the glom enveloped me again within just 4 or 5 months. Nothing in particular triggered the spiral. It just settled around me.

I told my doc and he referred me to a professional in appropriate therapy. We tried Paxil then most all the other medicines. Wean on, not work, wean off then try something different. For a couple years those on and off cycles continued until, finally, we found the right one for me. Did you know that the usual antidepressants work for only about 50 or 60% of patients?

The stigma is here - I know you feel it too. Why the stigma? Treating any other part of the human body for whatever ailment is what we do. That is okay and even required. But for this and only this part of the body, this organ we call brain, the stigma applies. My cancer has no stigma but my depression even I judge.

Now I have both, well actually 3 diseases: cancer, depression, and addiction. They may well exacerbate each other. Much evidence suggests that drug use is a form of self medication for depression. I do not understand the interrelationships, but I know I is one of all the above.

Now. the Tarceva daily poison we call chemo, and my depression medicine seem to interact in counter active ways. What if the Tarceva can work better with less or none of the other pills. Only one way to find out. Wish me luck . . . no, pray for me. Thanks.
Bill