Yup. Some chose to be ruled by their diagnosis, while others work to be their own master.
Wow. Did you realise how judgemental that sounded?
I had chronic depression that crept up on me. I just thought I was dealing with grief over long-term "issues". I kept working on those issues. Then I was getting less and less able to cope with all of life. I blamed myself for that. Then my body started to slow down. I could only walk at a slow pace. I was awake, but couldn't hold my eyelids open all the time. I had very little breath in my body and I couldn't sing at church any more. I cried a lot. But then I had real reason to cry, so I didn't pick that I was depressed.
I went to see a psychologist about something else. I was lining her up to teach a course, and I went to her to investigate something. She gave me a depression screening test. She said normal and healthy people may score up to about 12 points on the test. Over 12 and it may indicate depression. I scored 30. When she told me that I seem to have depression, I burst into tears. Of relief. From that day forward, I have said that now I am recovering from depression. Before then, I was at its mercy. Now, I can take steps to manage and recover from it.
I asked if I should see a doctor (re medication). She said, no, what she would do with me (cognitive behavioural therapy) would kick in before meds would. So we set to with the CBT.
I did everything she asked of me and more. She said she had never had a patient like me before (who had applied herself to the extent I had). Three months later, I took myself off to the GP, because I was no better. That caused me to lose some confidence in the psychologist. I asked her why she had recommended I not go to the doctor. She said she hadn't realised just how depressed I was. (I always look like I have it together. I was to hear that again and again, by the way.)
The GP tried 3 different meds - one at a time. The third one made a little difference. She upped the dosage to a very high dosage (slowly, over the course of 18 months).
Eventually, I went to see a psychiatrist. He had a CT scan done (to rule out a tumour). It's NOT a tumour! There was a woman in a wheelchair in his office the first day I went. She had been depressed for 10 years. Ken checked and found a tumour, she had just had surgery (hence, the wheelchair). Now, she's no longer depressed.
I didn't have a tumour. Ken also checked my thyroid production levels and did other blood tests. As a result, he prescribed injections of Vitamin B12 (a vitamin essential to neurological function). He didn't want to mess with the anti-depressant initially, preferring to change one thing at a time and assess the results.
My recovery wasn't quick. I remember the day I suddenly had breath again and could sing. I remember one day looking in the mirror in the bathroom and being surprised at how big my eyes were. I hadn't realised that my eyelids were still not fully open until then. I remember the day one of my colleagues at work said to me he was so happy to have heard my laugh across the office, and that he'd missed it.
I've since reduced the anti-depressant dosage by one-third. I am doing it very slowly. Each time I reduce the dosage I see that I become more dopey for a bit, need more sleep and I tend to pull the skin off the under-side of my feet. Bizarre, but that's what happens. I'm letting each step down last for several months, because it can take me that long to be sure I've not slipped lower.
If I have to be on the anti-depressants for the rest of my life, I'm okay with that. I am myself on them. When I was without them and severely depressed, my IQ dropped, I had no self-confidence (even in areas that I have mastery over), I was anxious and over-thought everything.
FWIW, thanks to our health system, I paid nothing for visiting the GPs, my medications were significantly supplemented by the government scheme (I pay about $30 a month) and, because I had been out of work for a long time and wasn't claiming any social security, Ken only charged me $20 above the amount that our government system would pay him for my visit. God bless him.
There are shysters and fools in every walk of life, including psychiatry and psychology. But there are good people and skilled people there too, as there are most everywhere.
