I finally decided to go to a walk-in clinic on November 23rd regarding my depression. This was a step I had been thinking about taking for a little while, but something in me held me back. I remember one time deliberately going to the area with the clinic instead of going straight home, but not being able to bring myself to walk in the door that night. I don't know what it was; maybe I was just wary of sitting in a potentially crowded waiting room that day.

Anyway, the doctor put me on a daily dose of 10mg of escalitopram and ordered blood work to rule out any other medical causes. It's still too early to know whether this is going to do the trick for me; it should kick in sometime shortly before Christmas (let's hope). I've been feeling a few of the side effects though, particularly the exhaustion: it's very rare for me to be able to stay awake too late after 9pm, though sometimes I will wake up in the middle of the night. For the most part I'm laying low while my body gets used to this, so there haven't been too many outings or nights out, and most of my weekends are spent in bed (my cat doesn't seem to mind this part). I'm still looking into my options regarding therapy.

I sought medical help because I was tired of the repetitiveness of what my life had become. My regular coping methods were band-aids at best, and not very good ones. My brain took the fun out of a party I had been looking forward to and kept me from making plans. I had evenings where I was a combination of drained and agitated, lonely but also feeling like interacting with other people was beyond my capabilities. I also felt that I owed it to the friends who continually encouraged me to take control of things by getting help; I worry I was frustrating them and letting them down the longer I let this drag on.

There's a glut of listacles online about the signs you have depression, anxiety or any other mental illness. I see the value in these, but I've always preferred to read people telling their own stories. It's one thing to see a list of symptoms, sometimes paired off with memes and gifs from movies, but there's something depersonalized about it all; it helps me more to know someone else is experiencing the same things I'm going through, to be able to connect the clinical stuff with impact it has on someone's individual life. Telling the story makes it more real.

I just want to have other stories to tell here beside this one.