Letting go

A little over three months.

That’s how long it took for me to lose 20 lb. Seeing my emaciated reflection was so repulsive that I averted my eyes and avoided mirrors. I had lost all those pounds because my body simply refused to eat. I'd also developed a fear of eating certain types of foods that I once used to enjoy. Clearly, my anxiety level was way off the chart, a total outlier all on its own.

Although I was weak from lack of fuel in my body, I did anything and everything that would help me feel better in any way. Acupuncture. Energy Healing. Qi-gong. Chinese herbal medicine. Aromatherapy. Yoga. Deep breathing. Walking. Psychotherapy. Spiritual teachings, etc.

Three months.

That’s how long I waited to make my first appointment with my first psychiatrist. My first doctor was a young woman doctor. I tried two different anti-depressants. Neither of them worked. As a matter of fact, the first drug almost turned me into a psychopath. 

I became more agitated, more anxious, and aggressive. I am definitely not an aggressive person. It really scared me that whatever substance in the drug activated a dormant part of my brain or chemically altered my brain to act violently. I mean, not physically but emotionally. So, the doctor switched me to another type of SSRI. This one did no harm but made no difference either. Maybe because I was on the lowest possible dose.

I used to be an anti-med person before all this. Getting medicated was another fear factor for me. I didn’t want anything synthesized in my body. 

By the time I started seeing my psychiatrist #3 (Doctor #1 was decent but not very compassionate, so I stopped seeing her. Doctor #2 was a well-seasoned Harvard educated man and a great listener, but he had retired early due to his failing health, so I had to look for another doctor), I have found my match. I mean, that was after I had taken a genetic test to determine which meds worked well my genes. Not sure how reliable the data is, but it gave me a sense of reassurance, knowing that I was on something compatible.    

To reiterate, I was an anti-med person before all this. What made me cave in was for an obvious reason. Taking the meds helped me feel “normal” again. Slowly but steadily, I started feeling like myself again, not fearless but not fearful either. I was somewhere in between, which was a happy medium for me. 

Medicine may not cure, but it can help you get there. I'm still not big on meds if you can do without them. But they can alleviate your symptoms and help you get up on your feet after you fall down. It's up to you decide what you want to do for yourself from there. It won't happen overnight (who knows? miracles do happen), but you can try to put one foot in front of another. Take one step at a time. It may be a slow progress but what matters is that you are moving forward. It's okay to take a break in between from time to time as long as you start moving again.

The road to recovery can be tricky. Every step of the way was a rocky road for me. But I knew I was headed in the right direction. Crossing through the valleys and over the mountains, it was the toughest trail I've ever hiked. But I wanted to keep going. Anywhere but there was like a paradise for me.