Almost 18 months ago, someone posted a comment on this post that I wrote. Scroll down and have a read.

A few days ago, I referred to that post in this post that I wrote.

I was in fact talking about how I am an extrovert and what that actually means. I read over the comment, and my response to it, and realised that this is a post that I have been meaning to write for a long, long time.

Go and read the comment and my response. I’ll wait for you.

Done? Okay. So the thing is, Anonymous was right. I was absolutely, categorically suffering from depression. I don’t know if I just didn’t want to admit it, or I just wasn’t ready to, but a month later, I told Hubs that I think I needed help. Hubs agreed. He had noticed certain things that suggested to him that his Wifey was not quite feeling herself. And when it all came to a head one night, actually the night of this wedding, he said something to me that I’ve never forgotten:

“You’re allowed. Just because you’re depressed, it doesn’t mean you don’t like your life.”

If you know someone who has suffered from depression, or if you yourself have, then you know this to be true. I was loving my family life – my two beautiful children, baby #3 on the way, a wonderful, supportive husband, an amazing family etc etc etc. I was struggling with life in Mount Isa, but if you had asked me at any time of the day “do you like your life?” the answer would most likely have been a yes.

So why am I writing this post now? Well I got help. I went to my doctor and we both agreed that anti-depressants, as well as some counselling, would help in my circumstances. The first day I started the meds, I thought I’d made a huge mistake. The side effects were absolutely awful – dry mouth, nausea, racing heart; but after making sure everything was okay, I kept going. The first week was rough, but by the end of the second week, my body had adjusted. And a month later, I started feeling like myself again. My head was more clear, and joyful moments were more forthcoming.

It’s been a year and 2 months since I started medication. When we moved to Rocky, I wanted to come off them, but the doctor I saw here advised against it. I had just moved towns, just bought a house, just had a baby, Hubs had just started a new job. He said we should revisit it in six months.

Well, now it’s been six months, and I’m going to go and talk to him next week. I know the meds have helped me incredibly, and I’m a bit nervous about coming off them. What if I can’t “cope”? What if I backslide and don’t realise it?

There are so many “what ifs” about the situation, but I can tell you one thing; I’m in a much better place than I have been for a while. And it’s nice. So thank you, Anonymous, for bringing this to my attention. Even though it took me a little longer to realise what was going on, your observations and concern are very much appreciated.

I shall certainly let you know how I go.