I was initially writing this out in a notebook, but figured I would share with you all as a way for me to make sense of everything, but also help anyone going through similar things. Many of you that read this blog may not struggle with substance abuse, but I know that the possibility is higher that you might struggle with anxiety or depression. So, this post will be a little different, and I hope that’s okay.

I was diagnosed with depression when I was in high school. My primary care doctor gave me the “diagnosis” because I was having physical symptoms that could not be explained. I was tired all the time. I was having headaches, and I was generally very lethargic. I use quotes around the word diagnosis because I don’t know if it was an official one or just something that we started treating. I’m not sure how that works. So began the seemingly never-ending journey of trying different classes and dosages of medications. I tried a drug from every single class of antidepressant, and some antipsychotics. I’ve been on SSRIs, SNRIs, SARIs, and second-generation anti-psychotics. What do all of those mean? It means I’ve tried a lot of drugs and had little to no success.

It was a long time ago, but I can remember trying a drug, feeling tired, then feeling good, then feeling worse than I did before I started the drug. This happened every single time. It was a cycle that I couldn’t get out of for a long long time. Finally, we found Cymbalta. I don’t remember feeling especially great on it, but it didn’t make me sick, so we stuck with it. I stuck with it for over a decade. It just so happens that this is about the time that my drinking began to become an issue as well.

I stayed on Cymbalta for many years. I didn’t have the energy to do very much. I wasn’t exploring hobbies. I wasn’t exercising. I would have really bad weeks where I was so depressed I’d come home from work, sleep, wake up to eat, and then go right back to bed. I was sleeping about 12 hours a night on average, and when I was awake, my brain was so foggy that all I could think about was getting back into bed. After I began my path with sobriety, these days were more often than not. Life was too hard for me, and I wondered if it was because my Cymbalta was actually not working, and I’d just blamed it on alcohol for all these years.

I sought medical help through counseling and psychiatry, and it all began again. Trying drugs and becoming very ill. I think within the past 6 months, I have tried nearly a dozen drugs that have all made me very sick; headaches, nausea, no appetite or overeating, sleeping like a newborn baby but waking up feeling sleepy, depersonalization, panic attacks, shakes and jitters, the list goes on.

I found a psychiatrist who gave me three true diagnoses: depression, anxiety, and PTSD. My psychiatrist also has the suspicion that I may have a form of “treatment-resistant depression,” which is a fun way to say “meds aren’t going to help.” What are the options for someone with treatment-resistant depression? One is TMS. It uses magnets to attempt to rewire your brain to produce its own healthy amounts of serotonin and dopamine. That’s the way my dumb-dumb brain understands it. It costs money, like all things in medicine do, and I can’t afford it. Insurance also told me in fewer words that I haven’t really suffered long enough to where they are willing to pay for it either, so that’s fun.

I had a week last month where I felt great. My medicine was finally working. I thought I might be manic because I felt so good. But, in reality, I was just feeling normal for the first time in 15 years. I picked up new hobbies, I kept my house semi-tidy (don’t get crazy, I still hate chores), and I was going to work and not coming home with my tank on E. I hoped that this was going to last, but it did not, and deep down, I knew it wouldn’t. The Rexulti I was on stopped working, and I got so tired I couldn’t keep my eyes open. I don’t know if you’ve ever been so tired that it feels like exercise sitting upright, but it’s not fun. I couldn’t keep my eyes open. I couldn’t sit up in a chair for more than 10 minutes because it felt like running a marathon. I would take a lunch break at work and go to sleep in my car. I brought a chair with me into my patients’ rooms at work because I couldn’t stand up while attempting to assist them. It was a living hell.

I shouldn’t use the past tense, because this is how I currently feel. I left work early one day this week because I was so tired, I couldn’t keep from stumbling over my feet, and I fell. This led to a panic attack in the bathroom because it felt like my body was failing me, and I had no escape. I am currently taking some time off work to rest and hopefully regain some strength, but I can’t help but wonder: what’s the end goal here?

If my depression resists treatment and I can’t get alternative medicines, then is this just the way that my life will be? I also can’t help but think, maybe I’ve made all of this up in my head, and I don’t even have depression. Maybe the medicines are making me sick because I don’t have depression or anxiety at all. Maybe I’m just a weak-minded person. I’m lazy and would prefer to stay at home rather than work. But that can’t be true because I’m feeling these things. I know that I’m feeling them. Surely I can’t just be so lazy that I can’t hold my head up.

That’s the thing about mental illness. You can’t see it. So, it’s very easy to convince yourself that this illness that’s all in your head is all in your head. Which is frustrating beyond belief.

I’m so tired. Mentally, physically, and emotionally, I’m exhausted. I have no steam left in this engine. I know that years of drinking did nothing to help this situation either, and very much did the opposite. I wish I could take all of that back, but I can’t.

I’m still trying to write and paint, two things I have loved doing. But, even typing this, I had to take several breaks to lay down and gather my thoughts. If you are the praying type, it’s appreciated if you will direct some my way. If you have dealt with this, feel free to share any information with me in the comments, it is also appreciated.

I guess the whole reason I’m writing this is to open the curtain. I’m sober, and I’ve worked damn hard to get here, but I still feel like I’m standing in quick sand. I’m too tired to fight against it anymore, and feel like it’s just slowly swallowing me up.

I’m getting rest. I’m seeing my therapist. I’m seeing my psychiatrist. I am doing all of the self-care activities I can. I’m doing the things I need to do, but I need medical help, and it has failed me so far.

Take care of yourself. Not because the internet tells you to. Not because you feel like it’s something you have to do as part of a routine, but because you genuinely deserve it. You are worth the time of rest. You are worth the self-compassion it takes to say, “I need to slow down.” So do something for yourself today, because you’re worth it.