Day Three: Fighting Back and Falling

Some people who feel a cold coming on will employ various methods of staving it off like taking certain vitamins or getting more rest. After that Sunday in February, I had a moment of clarity and realized I had a few tools at my disposal to perhaps ward off what appeared to be on the horizon. In the past, I used to sort of slog through a depressive episode and just do the best I could to get to the end of it once it took full effect, but this time, I decided to take the bull by the horns and fight back. Since our minds, bodies, and spirits are inseparable and often improving one winds up affecting the other two, I decided to work on my physical health by way of exercising regularly and eating more healthfully. I was going to fight this thing like a boss, so with that in mind, I started using our Wii Fit Plus to exercise. I began counting calories on My Fitness Pal while trying to eat smaller portions and less processed, fatty, sugary junk.

For a few weeks, it seemed like it was working. I was dropping weight and being more active. I found more focus for housework and other necessary tasks. I still had the odd day of what I'd call a significant blue mood, but it wasn't persistent. By Easter, I felt reasonably confident that I had successfully put the smackdown on this depression thing before it was able to really begin. Ah, hubris. What fools these mortals be! Not only had I not been successful, I had so convinced myself that what I was doing was working, that I had failed to really see how bad those blue mood days were and how quickly I was sliding down the slippery slope that plunges into darkness.

At some point in late April, I found myself up late one night sending private messages back and forth on Facebook with one of my girlhood best friends, Jae. We had been discussing various things and somehow the topic of why were both up so late came up. I think I said something along the lines of, "I'm tired but I just can't shut my brain off when I lay down." She said she understood how that was and we talked about possible solutions for the problem. After some time, we discussed pharmacological solutions and something occurred to me that I hadn't considered as a possibility. Xanax. My then psychiatrist had prescribed it for me a few months prior to GB's conception when I had been going through a difficult stretch. I wasn't exactly anxious, but had told him I had the occasional moment when stress threatened to overwhelm me. I don't know why he thought that qualified as a good reason to prescribe an anti-anxiety med, but he did and being the good, compliant patient that I am, I had it filled but had only taken a couple of pills which had zero effect on me. Inspired by this thought, I asked Jae (who has more medical knowledge than I do) just how much Xanax you can take without killing yourself. I didn't intentionally phrase it that way. It's just how it fell out of my mouth. Jae immediately grew concerned and while she answered my question, she asked me quite a few of her own, trying to ascertain my safety. I wasn't suicidal, but later that night as I lay in bed, I began to understand why Jae's red flags had been waving. If I'm being honest, a red flag waved in my head too, but I ignored it. Alone and still quite awake, I finally saw it flickering at me, but chalked it up to being tired and unable to stop thinking about stuff. Eventually, despite the cacophony in my head, I fell asleep.

The next morning, I woke up feeling as though I had been fighting dragons in my sleep. I was utterly wasted physically and irritable as a wounded cat. My usual coffee banished some of the cobwebs so that I was more alert, but then my brain clicked back into gear, thinking about the night before. I tried to dismiss it, push it aside, and just forget about it completely, but it was no good. Gray and I talked about it that night and Jae and I chatted about it again that evening. My mood was more blue that day than I had experienced it previously and that blue mood persisted into the next day and the one after it, until it darkened to black. My efforts at exercise waned and my appetite began to lessen as well. My weight began to drop even faster. I got to a place where I was so out of sorts that I just wanted to be alone, to isolate and withdraw.

By the end of April, I wasn't just thinking about why I had made that comment to Jae in the way that I had. Suddenly, I realised that I was wondering just how many Xanax were in that bottle and if it would be enough to put me out of my misery. The day I had that thought, Jae initiated a conversation with me on FB which eventually led to a late night phone call. We talked until almost 4am and when I finally confessed to her what I had been thinking, she said, "I think you need to call Pendragon tomorrow and set up an appointment." I tried to put her off by saying that I already had an appointment coming up in a couple of weeks (true, but an excuse), but she very firmly insisted that this didn't need to wait. I tried to say that I didn't like dealing with the staff at his office (also totally true, but an excuse) because of all the questions they ask. She replied that I should call and ask them to leave him a message stating that I'm symptomatic and to please call me back. Symptomatic. The word echoed around in my brain and try as I might, I couldn't argue with her logic.

It took every ounce of courage that I had (and several hours) to screw up enough nerve to make the call the next day and leave the message. I thought I was going to choke on the dryness in my mouth when the secretary answered and it was suddenly my turn to speak. Somehow I managed it and then around 5pm, Pendragon returned my call. He agreed with Jae that I needed to come in sooner and we arranged for me to come in the next morning. When I got off the phone, I was shaking and for a moment, thought I was going to be sick. I sat on the side of our bed, still holding the phone in my hand and I could no longer ignore what was staring me straight in the face. The depressive episode that I had fought so hard to fend off, to stop before it got started, had won. I was falling fast.