Posted by loni on December 3, 2003, at 14:00:51
I had a completely unexpected experience recently that I wanted to share with all of you.
I've struggled with treatment-resistent depression since my early teens. Being very sensitive, I've always felt guilty about my depression...it wasn't as bad as say....diabetes, right? Well, wrong. After an early hospitalization from an awful med reaction and then disability from Effexor W/D, my mood changed from guilt to anger. This WAS a real illness, it wasn't in my head, it could be life threatening without treatment and it was debilitating. However, where my mother told the WORLD when my sister had a form of curable Hodegkin's disease and rallied all sorts of support, my brush with seizures, aphasia, loss of coordination, migraines and other issues due to Effexor W/D was "hushed up" and no one in the family was told. How dare they let me lie there, alone and forgotten with no one to help my husband and I? While 40-60 people had rushed in to be there for my younger sister! Even my mother declined to come out.
Now I know intellectually that it is her own fear and guilt driving this. Depression runs in her family. I was the first one "out of the closet" regarding treatment and I am not shy to talk about it, to her chagrin. More and more people admit to me..."I think I have..." because I insist on being open about it and treating it like diabetes or any other chronic condition.
But, in my heart, I hurt terribly. I felt completely unvalidated and this just compounded my guilt and pain.
I was put on Parnate this time around and my pDoc thought it was a good idea to buy a med ID bracelet. (I'm on a few things) I sprang for the nicest one I could find, offered through a website called Lauren's Hope. It was a beautiful piece of jewelry, and useful.
And something strange happened.
With that bracelet to point to on my wrist, its familiar silver tag with the red med alert symbol gleaming, I didn't have to explain anything. There was the proof. Everything I was experiencing was real, I needed to take care of myself, and that bracelet on my wrist always reminds me. If I can't eat something specific (Parnate requires an adjusted diet), I point to the bracelet. I don't have to explain. I am a survivor and a fighter and I have my badge and I don't have to feel guilty ever again.
My mom? She may turn a deaf ear to many things, but she is respectful of this symbol on my wrist.
Who knew? It was a good choice. A good investment. My badge of courage. :)
poster:loni
thread:286245
URL: http://www.dr-bob.org/babble/20031202/msgs/286245.html