... always be honest about my condition.

Have I mentioned that I'm not supposed to drink alcohol with the ADs I'm on? Really? Pretty sure I must have said something. In passing. At some point. About my not being able to drink. It's enough to make me depressed... I've definitely said that. On more than one occasion.

Here's the real question I want to ask you. If you were on medication for a heart problem or an infection, and someone asked if you wanted a drink, would you tell them the reason why you couldn't have one? For most of us the answer is probably yes. "No I won't thanks, I'm a diabetic." "No I can't, I'm on antibiotics". However what about if you were on drugs to help with a mental health condition? An illness that isn't always thought of in the same way.

When my GP finally persuaded me I needed to take some medication I asked lots of questions. Would it affect my creativity? Would I live in a permanent state of numbness with fewer lows but also not so many highs? How long would I need to take them? What about treatment for my toenail...? Did he think I was an idiot? Weak? Pathetic? I'm fairly sure the poor bloke was relieved when I eventually left his office. I bombarded him with everything I could think of in between tears, self ridicule and some seriously blunt questioning. Why I forgot to ask him if I could still drink I don't know. Probably because I don't drink a huge amount and it's not top of the list when you're staring down the barrel of a metaphoric gun.

It didn't occur to me until I got home and decided to read the notes inside the pill box before I committed to a mid to long term relationship.

"This drug is known for causing tiredness as a side effect. Combining Prozac with alcohol can quickly lead to increased sedation. Even one drink combined with the drug can cause tranquilisation. As a magnifier of the drug’s effect, alcohol mixed with the sedative can produce potentially dangerous situations." 

The potentially dangerous situations? Mixing alcohol with prozac (fluoxetine) can lead to suicidal thoughts. I kid you not! You couldn't make this stuff up. Ok clearly you could but seriously if Alanis Morissette ever decides to rewrite Ironic she should chat to some people who suffer from mental health problems. We'd have a enough material for a track that rivalled the length of Fools Gold and This Is What She's Like.

Which finally brings me to my point (note to self: check if side effects also include an inability to retain a single train of thought...). If I was on any other medication and someone offered me a drink I'd politely decline and probably say why. But since I started taking ADs I've become increasingly aware that honesty isn't always the best policy. It is for me. I feel liberated. But I recognise that it does leave some people tongue tied. What do you say when someone tells you they're on antidepressants? Maybe ask them if they want to talk about it. Are the tablets helping? Is it hard adjusting to life without a cold glass of white (yes is the answer)? Are you nuts? Perhaps save that one for those friendships where they expect that sort of response...

Initially I shied away from addressing the issue and said I was on a health kick; taking 3 months off the booze as part of a lifestyle change. Then I realised it was just too much to hide and so began a level of openness, alongside a new level of abstinence, both of which I fully accept make some people uncomfortable. I'm still fundamentally the same person I was before the meds albeit a bit less manic and hopefully on my way to being a lot happier. If we're really going to remove the stigma associated with mental health we can all play a part in understanding what it means. For my friends and family it now means they have a regular designated driver. Not all bad news is it?

...ask for help.

Someone reminded me that I hadn't blogged for a while. It's been over a year.

I could have conceived and given birth to a baby in that time.
Or grown a pineapple.
Completed an MBA.

I didn't do any of these things. I didn't blog either. Other than a few posts, I haven't written much at all since finishing my photo a day blog on 31st December 2013.

I have worked though. A lot. And I've been unhappy with myself.

So unhappy that I was in danger of doing something stupid. This isn't a cry for attention. I'm self sufficient. My family would tell you too self sufficient. I never ask for help and that can be tiring for all of us. When I began to check that all my paperwork was in order and regularly thought everyone would be better off without me; that's when I finally realised I hadn't been happy for as long as I can remember and asked for help.

And that's why eight weeks ago I found myself telling a complete stranger that I couldn't cope anymore. It was a GP, not some random person in the street and actually I couldn't even tell him at first. Instead I showed him a damaged toenail even though he knew why I was there because I'd had to tell the receptionist when I made the appointment. In truly British fashion I apologised constantly for taking up his time on something so stupid but he listened patiently and I left with a prescription for Fluoxetine and a meeting with a counsellor.

I had at last faced the truth and accepted that I was depressed. Not a bit down. Not a bit miserable. Depressed. I'd become quite good at hiding it. People who know me well but not well enough would probably describe me as happy. I like to play the joker. To make other people laugh. To be there for people who are having a tough time.

Robin Williams is quoted as saying "I think the saddest people always try their hardest to make people happy because they know what it's like to feel absolutely worthless and they don't want anyone else to feel like that." I can relate to that.

Saying the words 'I'm depressed" out loud was, I hope, the start of my recovery. I know I'm lucky to have a great family, a job I love and (what could be) a beautiful home but as I've previously said to people who don't understand depression, "It's not about what you have, it's about how you feel."

I fell out with a cousin who I care for a lot because we disagreed on this. I wasn't brave enough to tell him I know this is true because it's how I've felt every day.

Before I sought help I set up another twitter account to share my real feelings and to connect with other people who are in a similar situation. I now take part in twitter chats about mental health. It helps to be honest about how I was doing. To talk about my medication and its side effects. To talk. Full stop. With complete honesty and without judgement. Except it's not completely honest is it because nobody knows who I really am?

My counsellor asked if I could speak to Will (my husband) about how I felt. However how do you tell someone that loves you that you don't want to go on living? Of course he knows I'm getting help and I talk to him when I need to but there are parts of our life together that I don't want to spoil for him. As I said before, it's not about what I have, or who I'm with, it's about who I am and how that makes me feel. If you're reading this and have no comprehension of what I'm talking about. Good. I'm pleased for you. It's a wretched place and I wouldn't wish it on anyone. Well maybe a small handful of people but only if really pushed.

It's taken two months for the meds to begin to balance themselves out. I spent 6 weeks feeling nauseous and exhausted during the day, then suffering from insomnia at night. Then I changed the time of day that I took them and it's starting to feel a little better. Being self employed has brought additional pressures. I'm extremely lucky that I've been able to tell my clients what I'm going through, to have had the flexibility to adjust to the meds. They've all been amazing.

I'm not looking for sympathy or pity. If just one other person who feels like I have reads this and decides to make a change that's a good thing. If someone who thinks that depression only happens to the weak changes their mind that's good too.

I think I'm pretty tough. I believe I can do anything. Except beat this on my own. This may seem like a tiny step but one small step for (wo)man - well - I'm hoping that's one giant leap for my own peace of mind.

This is the start of my journey. The road to happiness. And I'm going to share some of it in this blog.