OK, so part of the reason I said in yesterday's video that I would write about my depression journey this week is - so I'd do it! I've been thinking about it a lot, meaning to write about it, but just not taking (having!) the time to follow through. HOWEVER, yesterday I said it, so now I'm doing it.For those of you who don't know, in the spring of 2011 I was diagnosed with anxiety and depression. In retrospect, I think I have probably been struggling with it all my life but I just thought that's how I was. I thought it was normal to feel the way I felt. But the tender and loving pushes from some instrumental people in my life convinced me otherwise, and I finally went to see a psychiatrist. The result of my doctor's visit was that I began understanding anxiety and depression. I started practicing how to think correctly. I embarked on a journey of learning how to talk myself out of the negativity to which I had grown so accustomed. AND, I started taking an anti-depressant. There it is. Big and bold and stand-outish. I take an anti-depressant. I was so afraid to begin the meds. So ashamed of what people might think. Oh, I had no problem with other people needing anti-depressants. But I thought if I needed them, my faith must somehow not be strong enough. There must be something seriously wrong with me as a human being. It was just another indicator to me that I am not good enough. So, my Mr. Wonderful went and filled my first prescription for me. (Because I used to work at the pharmacy, and I was too embarrassed to let my former co-workers know that I am such a mess.) It took some time but, when the meds began taking effect, I could not believe the difference they made for me. Instead of immediately resorting to my old way of negative thinking and self-deprecation, I felt like the medicine gave me time to think reasonably. It was like a whole new world had opened up to me. And I was loving it! However, as time went on and I had conversations with some different people, I began to believe it was not a good thing for me to be on my meds. (Really, I was just hearing their opinions. And not thinking rationally.) So after I'd been taking them for a year, I took myself off of them. I figured: I had a year under my belt of practicing positive self-talk and reasonable thinking. It was time to see if I could do it on my own. Uh, I couldn't. A family trip to Disney, and trying to stay positive in my own (lack of) strength convinced me - I had just conducted the dumbest experiment of my adult life. I returned to taking my meds. And I swore to myself I would never try that again. Except about a year later, I decided I would just try reducing my dosage. *ahem* I'll pick up there tomorrow.