A Light in the Darkness

Someone turned on a light. At least, that's how it feels today. About a week ago, at my wits' end, I called my psychiatrist and told him how bad I was feeling. He immediately called in a prescription for me, and I started taking it the next day. I didn't know 10 mg of Prozac could make such a difference in such a short time. My outlook is definitely brighter. I haven't wished myself dead in the past few days. Of course, the medication hasn't miraculously erased all of my stress. That's still there, and I still have to deal with it. But at least I can deal with it now without wanting to tear out my hair and run away screaming.

You have to know what a huge change in perspective this is for me. For a long time, I believed that people only took pills to avoid dealing with their own problems or emotions. I avoided getting help when I needed it as a teenager because my parents discouraged secular counseling. But something changed in me during my senior year of college, and I realized that if I didn't get help, I would end up hurting myself or someone else. I will be a mother in a few months, and I want to love and enjoy my baby. I am much happier and more confident getting the help that I need.

And I didn't mean to imply that my husband didn't care about my mental state. He cares. He just doesn't know what to do about it. He believes he should be able to do something special to help me on his own, and he can't--at least nothing more than he already does. Between my pregnancy and his very demanding training, he has more on his plate than he can probably handle at one time. I actually feel sorry for the guy. He still isn't thrilled about me taking medication, but I think he'd rather see me smile when he comes home from work.