Crazy old Maurice

You may know that I took an antidepressant for a while. Sixteen months to be exact. Toward the end of that time I had the goal of phasing them completely out, and I edged toward and away from that goal a few times (with my doctor's approval). Sometimes I thought it might not happen for months or years to come and I had to become OK with that. If I went a day or two without them and felt angry and sobby, I would go back to them, until I was able to go several days and then weeks and felt fine. Eventually and very gradually I completely stopped taking them. My doctor told me that people might be on and off of them throughout their life as needed and that it wouldn't be weird if I decided to go back on them someday.

Starting a few months after weaning Lars, I believed I could be vigilant in combating my issues on my own, and I worked toward that. I don't know what lovely surprises my hormones have in store for me in the future. For now I am feeling good about the way my body is working on its own, with some additional help from me. Exercising, eating much better, getting much more sleep. Counting to ten before I talk or act. Praying more. Breathing deeply. Girls' nights out. Anticipating PMS. Letting go of (X commitment) once in a while and not worrying about it. All the things that my doctor recommended that might sound obvious. I hope those keep working for me.

I never thought I would be someone who took "crazy pills," or "happy pills" (choose your epithet), but I guess that's that. They helped me function for over a year and I consider that a blessing.

Some indicators that antidepressants might be completely out of your system:

You cry at every TV show and movie that you watch.
You cry at any song containing violins.
You cry at the sight of brand-new babies.
You cry when ambulances pass you on the street.
You cry when you read the scriptures, or most poems.
You cry when you hear bad news on the radio.
You cry at Story Corps. (seriously, Story Corps, quit messing with me!)
You cry at parent-teacher conferences.
You cry at the first sign of conflict.
You cry when people are extra nice to you.

The return of my tear ducts, after crying maybe--10 times?? if that?? in 16 months, was a mostly welcome gift. I am a crier by nature. It feels good to be back.

The other problem I faced during my pregnancy with Lars and after his birth, besides depression (manifest by ridiculous excessive crying that did NOT feel good, as well as severe mood swings) was anxiety, manifest by tachycardia, nightmares, and panic attacks. Unfortunately, some anxiety came back along with the tears. I love--LOVE the insights I picked up from Gavin de Becker months ago when I read his books. So far, they have been effective at helping me battle my (now minor) anxiety on my own.

Why we worry: Daniel Goleman concludes that worrying is a sort of "magical amulet" that some people feel wards off danger. They believe that worrying about something will stop it from happening. He also correctly notes that most of what people worry about has a low probability of occurring, because we tend to take action about those things we feel are likely to occur. This means that very often the mere fact that you are worrying about something is a predictor that it isn't likely to happen!

(So...you're saying that the huge tree next to my house probably isn't going to fall on us the next time it rains? Or, that my kids probably won't suddenly die in their sleep?) 

The relationship between real fear and worry is analogous to the relationship between pain and suffering. Pain and fear are necessary and valuable components of life. Suffering and worry are destructive and unnecessary components of life. ... 

When worrying, ask yourself, "How does this serve me?" and you may well find that the cost of worrying is greater than the cost of changing. To be freer of fear and yet still get its gift, there are three goals to strive for. They aren't easy to reach, but it's worth trying: 

1) When you feel fear, listen.
2) When you don't feel fear, don't manufacture it.
3) If you find yourself creating worry, explore and discover why. (The Gift of Fear, 287)

Examining and exploring worries as they come: Is worry an intuitive signal? In a roundabout way, it can be. That's because what we choose to worry about, however bad, is usually easier to look at than some other less palatable issue. For this reason, a good exercise when worrying is to ask yourself, What am I choosing not to see right now? Worry may well be distracting you from something important. (Protecting the Gift, 55)

Explore every intuitive signal, but briefly and not repetitively. When faced with some worry or uncertain fear, ask yourself: Am I responding to something in my environment or to something in my imagination? Is this feeling based on something I perceive in my circumstance, or merely something in my memory? (PtG, 56)

A silly but effective exercise: Each time you have a worry, define when you expect the dreaded outcome to occur, and mark it down on a calendar. Imagine you are worried that your daughter will be harmed while attending college in the big city. When? In a year, a month, a week, later today? Imagine you choose a week. Write it down, and when that milestone passes without incident, make note of that too. Record these failed predictions for a year, or until you are too embarrassed to keep doing it, whichever comes first. (PtG, 56)

Anyway, so here I am. Crazy old Maurice, maybe, but for the first time in a long time I am feeling pretty good about that.