I realized recently how much the successful management of my depression with medication had insulated me from the realities of the illness. My medication failed – my pharmacy started using generic Wellbutrin from a new manufacturer. I didn’t think twice about it until the depression thoughts started sneaking in. I brushed it off for a few days, but eventually admitted to myself that I was depressed again.
I contacted the pharmacy and had them fill my prescription with the generic Wellbutrin that works for me, and after a few days everything was hunky-dory, right? Well, not exactly.
It had been a long time since I had experienced that general hopelessness, the lack of interest in anything, the inability to get simple things done (I kept putting off going to the car wash). I had forgotten how going through every day with depression makes that really frustrating dream you have of walking down a hall towards a door that keeps getting farther away seem like a piece of cake.
In some ways that’s a good thing. I’m infinitely grateful that my depression can be managed with medication. I’m glad that depression had become something I couldn’t really relate to.
In another way, I needed this dash of cold water to bring me back to reality. I will never be completely free of depression. I’m not “cured” – my depression is only managed. The “beast,” as many depressives refer to it, is only caged, not vanquished.