Blue Monday

On my last visit to my doctor, almost two years ago, I got fed a familiar line: here is a prescription, we'll put you on the waiting list, read this pamphlet full of handy tips on how to not top yourself. The first time I went to the doctor with depression I must have been about 13. My GP was reluctant to prescribe anti-depressants, as we both knew there was more wrong than just a chemical imbalance, but with a 4 month waiting list for an NHS counsellor there was little other choice. In the end I refused the drugs and got put on the list. Four months down the line I heard nothing, but I didn't care: my depression had lifted and I got on with my life.

For nearly a decade now I've had these occasional bouts of depression. Some are mild but prolonged. Others are short but intense. Each time I've been proactive enough to speak to my doctor, and each time has been the same: I've refused drugs and been put on a seemingly endless waiting list. I've never actually been seen by an NHS mental health team. The one time they did get in touch with me, a mix-up at their end meant I missed my appointment. When they asked if I wanted to rearrange, I declined: it'd been six months since I'd been to see my doctor and, by then, I was feeling much better.

The reason I've always declined drugs is two-fold. First of all, the prescription of anti-depressants is not an exact science, and I've seen enough cases of the negative side-effects outweighing the benefits. None of the various GPs who have tried to prescribe me anti-depressants has ever filled me with enough confidence to make that leap of faith. Secondly, I've always resisted the idea that my depression is simply down to medical issues which can be solved by drugs. The medical community is all too eager to try and cure the symptoms, leaving the cause untouched.

This time round, though, I am open to taking anti-depressants. For a start, I can't carry on denying that my depression is, in part at least, chemically caused. It's no coincidence that my visits to the GP fall almost exclusively in the first three months of the year. Secondly, with the NHS counselling services seeming like a distant prospect, I have to do as much as I can now. Third of all, I self-medicate anyway: my consumption of alcohol and other substances is certainly not helping. Finally, this depression marks a new low for me. All I can do is try and be proactive, do as much as I can to fight off this affliction. If that means dropping my resistance to anti-depressants, then I will just have to swallow that pill*.

(*Okay, so I'm not too depressed to make crap puns)