Cure? Or not? July 9, 2008
Posted by spacemom in : Depression , 1 comment so farIn 1992, I got to meet one of the strongest women I have ever met. She had turned 90 in May of that year, and was peering at me through her coke bottle glasses. We were out at a local Jewish deli in the Cleveland area and she was quizzing me about the appropriateness of my dating her grandson.
After we finished lunch and took her back to her home, an assisted living center, Jay and I talked about his grandmother.
"she’s on medicine for depression. I sometimes wonder which person she really is, the one on the medication? or the person without it?"
I think of this all of the time.
I’ve fought depression for a long time. It’s clear that it has been here even before I knew it. My body makes even less serotonin now than it did before the girls were born. I’ve been on three different medications for this. Right now, cymbalta is my little blue and white pill of happiness. But not really.
I wonder sometimes who I am.
Not in the sense of "where is my place in the universe", but "if I lived with out this medicine, is that the "REAL" me?"
I don’t know. I hope not. Because that person fails to see anything good. That person is afraid to come out and see the world. That person sees failure and disappointment when she looks in the mirror.
The person with the medicine is more balanced. She sees the good, and the bad. She looks for areas of improvement, without areas of self-scorn. She projects an aura of confidence, and mostly feels that way.
Who am I? Really? Am I the person who thinks the world would be better off without me? Who feels that darkness closes in often and is prepared to swallow me? Or the person who watches the pinpoints of light in the dark and sees beauty within the sparkles. The person who doesn’t care if the world doesn’t know my name, but cares that those who love me can be there with me?
Who am I?
