I couldn't even count how many times I had been to the clinic so far this year, as I sat in front of my general practitioner for a general checkup. A month prior, I had suffered from a serious infection that put me on bed rest for three days. I was always tired, regardless of if I slept 8 hours or 13 hours. It never mattered. I woke up exhausted and went to bed exhausted.
"How has your mood been lately?" the doctor asked. "Has anyone told you that you have had an excessively bad mood?"
"I always have a bad mood," I explained. "It comes with my job. I can't let everything get to me... so I put up a wall so it doesn't."
After a few more questions, he got a serious look on his face. But what he said next caught me off guard. His words slapped me right across my face.
"I believe you have a touch of depression." I opened my mouth to protest, but he continued. "What you do-- your work-- is important. Lives literally depend on you. The health and well being of the people around here always comes before your own. You get sick, you work through it. While I believe that your job is important... you, your health, and your own well being is more important. You spend 40 hours or more each week helping other people and never do anything for yourself-- you said that earlier, when I asked you what you do for fun. I'm going to put you on something to help you with your bad mood... because depression doesn't always mean sadness. It can mean anger and bitterness."
I left with a prescription, questioning whether or not I would actually get it filled. While waiting in the lobby of the lab, where they were going to check my thyroid, I decided it couldn't hurt. After all, if it made me less angry every day, it had to be a good thing.
But I was embarrassed. How would my family take it? How would my friends deal with me? And most importantly, how would the people I work with see me? The last thing I wanted was to be seen as weak and incapable. I decided not to tell anyone who didn't need to know... as some of the few that I told didn't exactly overwhelm me with support.
I did some research. Depression and Epilepsy go hand in hand, and in a majority of those who suffer from a seizure disorder in the portion of the brain where mine affects, also suffer from depression. Depression is a chemical imbalance in the brain. It doesn't mean that we are weak. It doesn't mean that we are incapable.
It means that we are human beings, and just like the rest of the people out there... we need fixed. There's no shame in getting help for what we can't control.
After all... nobody is perfect.
