Originally published on 30 Sep 2017 12:22 AM
Crystal Clear.
As clear as a very sunny day in the middle of an ocean.
A photo I took during my holiday in East Nusa Tenggara Islands, 2017.
Now before I began I’d like to iterate my experience with depression and my medication process briefly, so you have a better idea about what kind of journey I had to go through.
Background Story
I was diagnosed with agitated depression and OCD back in 2012 by a psychiatrist. My OCD symptoms weren’t all that bad, but it was severe enough that I would keep washing my hands non-stop every now and then until the skins on my hands started peeling off and bleeding happens.
Now, the big thing was my agitated depression—it’s the kind of depression that usually came with restlessness, mania and anger. Sometimes, it might even manifest as an infrequent emotional spike when I was dealing with mentally difficult situations. I remember quite few times I actually snapped and screamed at some people upfront and/or in public during those days. It was really bad—I resented those days.
Fast forward, I had to go on a whole-year medication for at least 4 years. Now, this is the questionable part—the psychiatrist who made my prescriptions originally said to me that the medication would go for about 1 year. I agreed on that, and started committing right away because I just hated myself so much back then that I’d do anything to get myself back in reasonable mental shape.
But then the medication carried on, and on, and on. I wasn’t exactly having anything against long medication, since I acknowledged that this kind of medication would usually take at least 1 year. But on the 3rd year taking a bunch of pills 3 times a day, I began to question things. The doctor is a sweet old lady, and I enjoyed paying her a visit. But niceness wasn’t what I was there for—reality had to be checked. I consistently asked the doctor, when would the medication end, since I’m feeling so much better already at a certain point. She would then refuse to make the timeline clear by saying:
“There will be time for that, and I’ll let you know.”
(Nanti kalau kamu sudah siap, sudah lebih baik.)
I’d say, alright, let’s see how it goes then.
Now, for some information, I had to buy the pills from one specific pharmacist near her house. The keeper is a nice lady and started recognizing me not long after I started the medication. But one time, that pharmacist was closed for renovation, and I was forced to move out to a further-but-bigger drug store on the neighborhood. Apparently this drug store is actually the main store, and the one I visited periodically was a kind of branch store. The keeper is a cute middle-aged lady (yet another lady) and after few times paying her a visit to buy the drugs (the renovation took awhile), with a worrisome face, she asked:
“How long had you been on this medication?”
(Kamu sudah berapa lama pakai resep ini?)
Something struck me. It’s not so much what she said, but the way she said it. I just answered:
“Well it has been quite a while.”
(Yah udah lumayan lama sih.)
I said that just so she won’t have even more funny ideas as she appeared to be having already. For whatever reason I was starting to be suspicious about that doctor.
Long story short, I kept on visiting her for updates, until one point I asked again about the timeline of the medication when she finally said, with a smile:
“I’d say that Teguh shouldn’t worry if you are to keep with the medication”.
(Teguh gak usah kuatir kok kalau harus datang ke sini seterusnya.)
Gobsmacked, I asked again:
“Excuse me, doctor, what do you mean by keep with the medication?”
(Maksudnya bagaimana ya dok datang ke sini seterusnya?)
When she replied:
“You don’t have to worry about taking pills like this.”
(Kamu gak usah kuatir dengan berobat seperti ini.)
Not to bore you with more details, at that time I knew something not right was definitely up with her. I managed to get myself another psychiatrist and in about a month I was officially released from all of the medications. Here I am now.
After Depression
The first thing I immediately notice, was elevated senses—lights are brighter, sounds are louder, movements are more noticeable and emotions are stronger. That was when I realized one possible risk of taking anti-depressant—it made me so mentally numb that I don’t feel stimuli as much. I was thinking maybe that’s the whole point—to lessen stimuli so as to prevent me from being too stimulated and stressed. But then, the less the drugs have influence over me (took few weeks until all the noticeable effects faded off) the more I realized how screwed up everything was.
Apart from senses, my head actually started thinking “correctly” again. I started to re-experience all of the things happened on those 4 years, and gradually figuring out so many things that felt wrong, but weren’t so obvious because I was on the medication. And really, I can’t tell you how much I resented many of the situations people put me through on those 4 years. I’ve let go most of the things by now, but still, it was regrettable that I wasted a lot of effort, time and money all those 4 years whereas I always thought I could go ahead off-medication so much sooner than that.
To tell you the truth, I’d say that while the medication is useful, I figured that its effectiveness started to plummet up to a certain point. The doctor should’ve suggested to patients (such as me) that when they could tell that their patients are ready to get off medication—like, really ready—pills should be stopped gradually. I don’t know what’s up with that doctor but certainly “keeping up with the medication”, presumably my whole life, by the way she said it, just wouldn’t cut it.
In the end, the first few months off-medication weren’t exactly pleasant. I had to adjust with increased stimuli and so much more thoughts running on my mind, but then, after that, it was worth it. Up to a point, I felt so liberated that I finally got myself back. Of course, being someone who had depressive episodes, I’ve had my relapses even until this date. But there is no way in hell I’d go into another year-long medication. I’d rather die than to do that all over again.
The most difficult part of post-depression, I think, is dealing with frequent relapses that might just happen without knocking. I’m practically on my 1st full year off medication now, and eventhough life isn’t perfect (in fact things are getting rather worse now), for one reason or another, I’ve never felt more alive than this.
One message for anyone dealing with depression—you can make it. Nah. You can. Trust me, you can. Believe in yourself. Don’t listen to those noises in your head that sounds like but but but—they’re simply, noises. Noises are not supposed to be taken seriously, nor given much attention to. You can do it, I know you could. I could do it myself, why couldn’t you?
Thank you if you read this far.
_ Tegunology _ 