Posted by: emjb | January 15, 2006

Stubborn pride

I have been thinking about why I don’t want antidepressants. It’s at least in part because I’d have to go back to my midwives to get them, and that feels like a defeat…I don’t want to admit to them that I might need them. And frankly, I would just have to say “I want antidepressants” and they’d prescribe them, I’m pretty sure. I’m sure they do so all the time, because they suck and have lots of depressed clients. And I don’t want to be another client they throw drugs at to make up for their suckiness.

That’s probably not the best reasoning there.

And I’m still not sure that I need them. I know I don’t want them, of course, but it’s not the same thing.

And I don’t know what they’d do to me. I find that kind of scary.

And I’m going to be uninsured between jobs, because I can’t afford COBRA. So getting refills is going to be an issue too. They’re expensive.

I have three more days of employment and insurance to get a prescription, if I want it. I need to decide if it’s better to handle these feelings alone, or if I really could shorten the grieving process. It’s tempting, but then, I got through my father’s death without drugs.

I do wonder, if part of the pressure I feel to get the drugs is because my PPD/grief (whatever you call it) makes people more uncomfortable than if I was sad over the loss of a loved one. New moms aren’t supposed to be sad, after all. Not that I’m a Tom Cruise freaky type who’s agin’ all psychological drugs cause they ain’t natural, or something. But it’s a lot harder to know when psychological pain is really too much to deal with.

And I’m not sad all the time; it’s more sudden rainstorms than constant drizzle. I really hate the anxiety more than the sadness, because it makes it harder to sleep and enjoy myself when I do have down time. If I got the prescription, it would be for that reason…so I could relax.

My grandmother had depression a lot, but she was also a bitter, selfish, shallow human being who seldom took responsibility for her own problems. I don’t know if her depression was chemical or just because she was very adept at making herself miserable. I have worked very hard to be as un-like her as possible–she’s sort of my anti-example in life. So maybe taking antidepressants would make me a little too much like her, in my mind.

I need to think about this some more.



  1. I think you’ve hit on the main drawback to taking meds: swallowing your pride.
    I’ll just say a few things:
    –I’m on them and am very grateful for it.
    –But I could survive without them, and I have.
    –There are two possible things that can happen with trying them: they don’t work, or they do. Either way, you can stop them if you want — it’s not like crack.
    –One of my motivations for staying on them is because I think it’s better for my son to have a less depressed, less anxious mother, and they make it easier for me to be that way. Not completely different, just easier.
    I say more here:
    but I link to Tertia’s post, which I think says it really really well.
    I’ll stop proselytizing now!

  2. I resisted taking any medication for my PTSD for a long time, but once I started them, I wished that I had changed my mind sooner. I’m happy to discuss with you over email.

    Also, you might see if your doctor will write you a prescription for 3 months worth of medication (if you do decide to take it, that is). That might help the cost aspect during your uninsured time.

    Whatever you choose, I hope that you feel better soon.

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