Mollywogger

"If television's a babysitter, the internet's a drunk librarian who won't shut up."

Saturday, December 04, 2004

When I'm stuck with a day that's gray and lonely

Two months ago, I called the clinic to see if I could get an appointment with a psychologist. I had never liked fall, and certainly never liked winter, but the dread of the upcoming season was just too much for me to handle this year. I live in the midwest, where winter means long underwear and car accidents and sidewalk salt and road gravel and scraping frost off of windshields with numb hands. And, what is surely the most defeating, only 10 hours of sunlight manage to push their way into our part of the northern hemisphere.

This year the dread of winter consumed me. I sat at work in a stupor, unable to force myself to work. I snapped at my husband, stayed at home every night, and seriously considered talking to my boss about the possibility of working only 3 or 4 days each week. I have a history of depression, but it's been controlled for years by Zoloft (a gift from the gods). This fall, it just wasn't cutting it.

I suspected Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD) and bought a book to read up on symptoms and treatments. The most frequently mentioned treatment was a light therapy box; these boxes emit 5,000 - 10,000 lux of light (as compared to a normal light bulb, which emits less than 1,000), and start, may I add, at upwards of $200. I had called and made my appointment, but couldn't get in for two months.

I couldn't let two months of my life slip away in this fog. We took some of my husband's most recent student aid loan and bought a light therapy box.

Godsend. Not quite 100%, but incredibly relieving just the same.

I finally got in to see Dr. N this morning. I was officially diagnosed as having SAD, and my Zoloft has been upped for the fall and winter months. I will continue using the light therapy box daily.

I firmly believe that if you are suffering from chronic emotional difficulties that are adversely affecting your life, there's no need for you to be a martyr. It's trendy right now for people to piss and moan about how Americans are drugging themselves into a stupor and crushing every negative emotion with a bottle of pills. Don't let that make you feel guilty if you need to seek help. A mental illness is exactly that -- an illness -- and should be treated as such.

So, we'll see how my treatment plan works. I'll keep you posted.

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