For the last few weeks I think it’s safe to say that I’ve struggled quite a bit with my mental health. I tried to muddle my way through it like I usually do, but by Sunday night I knew I had to sort myself out before it got any worse. I quickly made an appointment with the doctor and by Monday night I had taken my first antidepressant since Isabelle was roughly 6 weeks old.
Going Back on Antidepressants with Fluoxetine
I’ll be honest and say I don’t massively like antidepressants. I’m not here to question whether people should be on them or not, at the end of the day you have to do what works for you. But for me personally, I don’t like the idea of them as a long term solution. I might be totally wrong on that. For all I know I’m actually someone who needs to stay on them, and going off them like I have in the past has only made my life worse. But right now I want to take them. This is my third time taking them and actually my third different antidepressant.
I’m tired of slipping, I’m tired of looking at life like it’s this massive waste of time, and I’m tired of failing to take much joy out of anything that I do. In all honesty, this photo sums up exactly what being depressed is like most of the time:
I am so envious of people who are able to do the simplest of things and take such enjoyment from it. People who just go out shopping for the day, have some cake at the coffee shop, appreciate the weather, buy something trivial just because they can and head home thinking they’ve had a lovely day.
I would love to be able to do that. But I can’t. I genuinely struggle to find the meaning in even the deepest things that we do. All I often see is how futile and pointless life really is.
I’ve never been so up and down with depression
Truth be told, I’m probably bipolar. Not that I’m saying that from a professional diagnosis. And it’s not like there’s a blood test you can do to check. But with how up and down I’ve always been I’m just guessing that that’s the case.
One minute I’m seemingly in a endless pit and life is meaningless and pointless. A few days later I’m full of life and enthusiasm. Rachel has always said it’s like living with multiple people, and she never really knows which Ross she’s going to get.
She either has to deal with depressed “life is shit and we’re all going to die” Ross, or she has over-the-top, enthusiastic Ross who wants to wind her up and book a family bungee jump. The woman’s a bloody hero. I know full well that I’m not a person that’s easy to live with. The number of times we’ve had arguments because I’m in a depressed mood and about 30 minutes into it my mindset suddenly flicks like switch and I’m full of laughter and jokes. All the while she’s still there like this:
But for the last few weeks, and certainly the last few days, I’ve been absolutely all over the place. I’ll be sat there with Isabelle and catch myself wondering what the hell I’m doing back on antidepressants, thinking to myself that there’s nothing wrong with me and I’m talking shit. An hour later I just want to be left alone and feel incredibly bleak.
Sometimes I feel like a Fraud of a Father
It’s frustrating because when I’m in a bad place, I feel like such a fraud as both a father and as a blogger. I see myself talking about how much I love to spend time with Isabelle and how much being a parent means to me. But when I’m in the depression stage of the cycle I don’t really believe it. I essentially feel like I’ve been lying the whole time. The whole blog feels like some sort of act to give off this impression that I’m a good dad. How can I seriously write about the joy she brings me when two days later I wish I didn’t have her.
I didn’t even like writing that sentence because it feels like a lie. Saying that I have moments where I regret being a father feels like a total lie. That’s because right now I’m feeling fine enough to write about all of this. Basically I feel like a contradicting mess and I have no idea what the fuck I’m talking about.
When I’m depressed I suddenly find Isabelle incredibly stressful. I don’t really look at her with the same love and affection as when I’m healthy. I think back to a time when I used to be able to sit there all day playing Xbox and wallowing in my self loathing, rather than having to look after a ‘needy’ child. Then one day later she’s the best thing that has ever happened to me and I want to tell the world.
All I can say is good luck to both Isabelle and Rachel. They’re going to have to somehow deal with this shit for the foreseeable future! Hopefully this fluoxetine will help take some of my stupidity away.
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