Way way back, I wrote about the things that I’d learnt since taking anti-depressants which I hadn’t necessarily been aware would happen. And I’ve continued to learn many more things, like the shear quantity that are available, the different forms they can come in, and what they can be combined with, such as the anti-depressant I started taking in February that was also a sedative to help me sleep at night. There were many potential side effects to taking this which I was warned about, such as weight gain, and my taking them even had to be signed off my an psychiatrist despite the low dosage that I was given. But they worked really well.
A bit too well, actually. They reduced my anxiety levels to the point where I genuinely didn’t feel a thing, even for the things that I should have been nervous about or would normally have some form of emotion towards. I wasn’t really ‘me’.
Exam revision? I didn’t really care. I would have quite happily gone along to my exams having not revised, and I wouldn’t have batted an eyelid. My motivation level to do any form of work was at the lowest level I’ve ever had. There was no worry, nothing.
Taking my medication completely sapped my of any form of motivation whatsover, even for the things that I really enjoy doing.
Reading a book? Huge effort.
Sending an email? Huge effort.
Applying for a job which I desperately want? Huge effort (Well, not as much as an effort as everything else, but still incredibly anxiety inducing too).
Looking for more than one job to apply for? Not even happening.
Essays were left until the very last minute, to the extent that I wouldn’t start writing until 24 hours before the deadline, and even then I just didn’t feel stressed or worried at all. Some would probably say “surely it’s good you’re not having the anxiety you used to?”. I would agree, but there was absolutely no adrenaline to do anything – I ended up staying up until 5am to submit my final one. Very unlike the normally well prepared Spoh I was as an undergrad.
I even turned up to an exam half an hour late (I’d had a bit of a stress and got all my times muddled up in my revision plan – 3 exams in 2 days tends to do that), and apart from the brief moment when I came close to tears, I wasn’t that bothered. But I should have been. That wasn’t okay. Again, that wasn’t very ‘me’ at all.
My motivation level was a literal 0. I did all the things that you need to do every day – I’d get up, shower, eat food etc. It wasn’t that I didn’t see the point in these things like you do when you’re in a particularly dark depression phase, I just couldn’t be bothered with anything. I was a literal definition of ‘C.B.A.’ Even blogging became a huge effort. The only things that I posted were either things that I had written before, things which had been in my mind for a really really long time so which were relatively easy to get into writing, or things that were written for other people and which I really wanted to write because of how difficult I found things last year (the brief moments when the Spoh who cares came through). It’s safe to say that I’ve gotten my moneys worth from my Netflix subscription in the past months.
So I trotted off back to the doctor like a good little patient and told her how I’d been feeling, and (rather excitingly) I get to start to stop taking one of my medications – woop woop! Which is quite exciting when I think about it really, but it’s also proving to be flipping exhausting!
P.S. I think I’ve referred to myself as Spoh a few times in blog posts now – it’s not a typo, more of a pet name from my friends (although technically that did arise due to a typo…)