A perfectly healthy person stands in the shallows of the Sea of Coping. Some might be further out than others, but you stand there and the tide moves in an out and the waters lap up and down, sometimes barely foaming over your feet, other times a swell might sweep up to your chest. In really hard times a wave might knock you on your ass and leave you sputtering in its retreat, struggling so that you're standing again when the next wave comes.
A person with depression has been caught by a wave and lost their footing. They can't find the bottom to stand, and the water in their eyes prevents them from seeing the shore. They have to tread water or drown. You want to swim to safety, but if you strike out in the wrong direction you know you'll exhaust yourself and just move to a place of greater danger. You find yourself unable to move, desperately treading water.
Into this metaphor I introduce the Therapist. A good Therapist is like a lifeguard. They see you struggling, apply any emergency first aid, and calm you down, before helping you back to the beech and wrapping you in a towel. The key in making best use of them is being able to calm down and stop struggling when help reaches you.
Antidepressants are like driftwood. Some are small and barely of any use. Others big enough to climb on like a raft. The hope is that it'll give you a chance to catch your breath, ease your cramps, and blink the water out of your eyes so you can find your own way back to the shore. But there's no guarantee, no safety line, no helper to watch over you and give you encouragement. And if you still can't see the shore, you still don't know which way to swim.
I really didn't want to resort to antidepressants. Honestly, I'm afraid of them. They are handed out so freely by doctors, most of whom don't bother to address the underlying issues that have you sputtering in the waves. When you take them, the chemicals are in control of your moods, not you. There is no way to tell if what you're feeling is because of the pill you swallowed or because you're genuinely happy or sad. What kind of life can you lead if you don't even know your own heart?
But I've been treading water for so long. I've tried and waited and hoped for a therepist, a lifeguard to lead me back to shore, but I'm tired, and I'm scared. I'm more scared of drowning than I am of the meds. So yesterday I gave my consent and I grabbed hold of the driftwood.
Lets hope soon I see the shore.
I know exactly what you mean and your metaphor is a great one that I haven't considered before. You are right in saying that doctors do prescribe anti-depressants freely these days without addressing underlying causes and conditions, but in times it can be better grab the driftwood to give yourself that assistance and time to breathe. With me and my PMDD I wish I had taken driftwood a long, long time ago. I'm on the smallest dose that allows me to be buoyant enough to float in order to swim instead of the half-drowning I had been coping with for such a while.
ReplyDeleteTake the driftwood and take your time. It's a work in progress but at least you'll catch you breath xxx
As one who also deals with depression, I was very struck by your metaphor, and could understand your reluctance in taking the antidepressants. I, also, reached the point where taking the meds was the lesser of the two evils. I am able to at least function (most days), and so it has been worth it. I wish you good fortune in your journey back to shore.
ReplyDelete