amanda meets depression

Someecards I Hate Mondays Through Sundays

Accurate.

Funny thing happened in October – I was diagnosed with severe depression. So severe that I was bumped to the top of a 80 person waiting list to see a therapist and a psychiatrist. So severe, my doctor almost started crying when I handed her the list of thoughts that had been on constant rotation in my head for the past two weeks. So severe, that I really, truly, honest-to-god thought I was going to crumble into nothing and die. The scariest part was that I didn’t care. In fact, I was looking forward to that moment of oblivion. 

What I have learned since then is that for the majority of my life, I’ve probably never really been sad, but depressed. Apparently, my brain looks at sad and says, “Fuck this! Let’s go the extra mile!”

Another thing I have learned is to not drink alcohol like a sorority girl when you’re on your first month of Zoloft. Present Amanda is trying to reach through a hole in spacetime to past Amanda to give her the following message:

  • DO NOT under any circumstances drink that whole margarita. You will drink another, then one more, then two glasses of champagne (three?) swiftly and with an ease that would embarrass Ernest Hemingway. 
  • DO NOT wear what you like to call your “Classy Dress.” It will be neither classy nor dressy by the time the night is through.
  • For god’s sake, DO NOT eat the green chile enchiladas and a strawberry cream cake in rapid succession only moments after you’ve consumed alcohol noted above. 
  • Move your hand away from your mouth when you begin to vomit so as to prevent any barftastic essence from spilling onto your “Classy Dress.”
  • Listen to your boyfriend when he says, “Stop drinking. Now.”
  • Listen to your doctor when she says, “Don’t drink alcohol with this medication.”
  • Listen to your future self who will have to write about this in blog form. Idiot. 

For the record, it’s funny now, but I really did black out for a moment and then puked into an adjacent pitcher that was, thankfully, free of any and all beverage. Jeff acted with speed and precision to ensure that most of my vomit was projected into something rather than onto my person. I did fill that pitcher with vomit, by the way. And we’re talking to the brim, people. Jeff was proud of me in a weird way – somehow all five feet of me puked up a pitcher full of puke. 

Now, I tell this story not to warn against the dangers of drinking with medications and the whole thing, you guys know that. I tell this story to illustrate what I like to call “My Darkest Hour.” In hindsight, it’s pretty hilarious, but when you’re there and puking green enchilada with strawberry cream on yourself, it all becomes very dark very quickly. The point is though, that I’m here now writing about it. Things got better. I no longer puke into pitchers. Believe it or not, that’s a good thing. I’m making sure I don’t puke into pitchers just like I’m making sure I don’t get caught up in the negative thoughts my chemically imbalanced brain spits outs. 

So, the long and short of it is this – I know I’ve been gone for a while, and I know there are some of you out there who genuinely like this blog; you leave great comments and you keep coming back here even when I’m not posting. I want to thank you for being such a constant while I was, and am, going through such a difficult time. There might be more posts from here on out about my depression, but I promise I will try to put a good spin on it. The posts might not be as scheduled as they were before, but I’ll try. I just want to say thanks, guys. There’s more to come, it will just take time.

Also, tell your friends that have depression or anxiety to COME ON OVER. Let’s talk this shit out. Let’s help each other and try to make sure no one else pukes on themselves.

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7 comments

  1. Glad to have you back on the blogosphere! I really missed your funny posts, but I’m very sad and sorry to hear that you’ve been depressed. I was hoping that you were off having such a fun time doing something awesome that you didn’t have time for blogging.

    I hope you’re feeling better (both mentally and physically…that puking really sounds unpleasant). Thank you for always adding humor to the world.

    1. That is so kind of you to say! It’s good to be back, and I appreciate the well wishes.

      The good part about being gone for a while is that all of my favorite blogs (especially yours) now have tons of posts for me to spend hours reading. It’s a pretty rad feeling.

  2. Oh man, it happens, it really does. Most often to the most awesome of us. It’s like all that brain room for the lofty heights of amazingness means that there also The Depths, too.

    So, I’m hoping you are on the up and up and that your swell new meds are helping!

    Glad to see you back!

    1. Thank you, thank you! That’s a great point – I think the blogging community is one that will understand. Us creative types seem to have a reputation for depression.

      Thanks for still being here now that I’m back! And thanks for the words of support.

    1. Thank you! I love that you recently discovered my blog AND left me a comment. The comments are much appreciated. I hope to bring you way more hilarity in the future.

      Keep the comments coming! And thanks again!

  3. Seriously though, I posted on FB that Zoloft made my depression worse. It really did, and I didn’t really realize it until a friend pointed out that I was acting weird. It made it impossible for me to hide my emotions. They were just all out there for everyone to see.
    I hope it works for you though. But make sure you monitor how you’re feeling and acting and ask to try something different if you need to.

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