Prisoner in My Own Mind

When I was diagnosed with depression over ten years ago, I thought, finally there's an explanation. I struggled for about five months before that with a complete lack of desire to do anything but lay in bed. It was a struggle to get up to go to classes and get to work. I wasn't full of my usual ambition or desire. I didn't care if I spoke to anyone, and most especially avoided speaking to my family.

Focus, well that was completely gone. Normally I had an extreme sense of getting things done in an orderly and efficient fashion, and worked on multiple tasks at one time. It was if my brain was a minefield and I couldn't piece tasks together in the proper order to complete them. Then, there was the rage bubbling under the surface. I had always been an outgoing person, finding common ground with complete strangers to make them feel like a friend upon our first conversation. All I felt for people now was impatience; if they didn't do what I wanted them to do as quickly as possible, I wanted to harm them.

Along with rage came other extreme emotions, but never joy. The things I enjoyed no longer mattered. The only feelings I recognized anymore were sadness, anxiety and shame. And, when the crying started it could and often did last for hours. I was a complete mess and didn't even recognize myself. So, when I was finally diagnosed, as I sad, I had an explanation. However, I was nowhere near a cure.

I felt like a prisoner in my own mind, and often had the feeling that I would just like to tear off the cocoon that surrounded me just so I could be the ME I thought I was again. It's a terrifying and humbling feeling, and one that took me a few years to shake because I had to admit I needed constant help to fight this disease. Although therapy wasn't very effective for me at that time, as I had a very difficult time opening up, let alone admitting I needed help, drug treatment was. Getting to the right drug, however, did take some time and was painstaking. After eight years on drug therapy, my physician and I decided it was time to try to fly solo, so to speak, live without the prescription.

For about a year or so, things were fine. Lately though, with life's problems piling up on me and the extreme feelings of stress I've had, I have been looking into some alternative treatments with my doctor. I have just recently started on two natural supplements to improve my focus and mood. If they will work, I'm not sure.

What I am sure of is that I am living a full life, complete with a husband and two children. My penchant for animal rescue has been a hobby of mine for the past six years, as we have nine rescue parrots, two rescue dogs and two rescue cats. We live in a nice home, and I hold a steady job. So, I can say I cannot afford to succumb to my illness. I am needed far too much to enclose myself in that cocoon again. I am a fighter and will work my way through life's trials. I just need some extra help to do so sometimes.