VB was put on hold today since real life got in the way of learning. From running errands with my love in the morning to a trip to a certain clinic in the afternoon, to taking care of my kid up until now, my day has been pretty busy.
I'm really apprehensive about a decision I made today. I got to choose my medication today. Actually, I wasn't really offered a choice, but I took my chances anyway and spoke my mind. Hell, if I'm paying someone to listen to me, I might as well use that, right? There is an issue though. And not a minor one at that. After a lot of failed attempts at finding a therapist, back in 2007 a friend of mine, who shall remain nameless out of respect for his privacy, told me that he had been treated quite successfully in the past years in some clinic. Desperate, seeking salvation from my own mind and from the thoughts that run through it at that time, and pressured by my family and my girlfriend at that time to seek medical help, I decided to give it a go.
Right now I'm remembering all that happened during that time... I started treatment in mid October. My first anti-depressive medication worked wonders, starting from day one to produce visible changes in my mood. I still remember the first few days fondly... It was quite a rush, all the world seemed brighter, I started noticing stuff I had never acknowledged before. Hell, if my own life wasn't such a mess at that time, I'd say I would have felt quite happy. The drugs worked really well during the month that followed, my mood quite better, the thoughts of suicide completely banished from my mind, I started regaining my former love for learning, even my writing improved quality. Apparently it worked like magic, except for one not so minor detail. It simply killed my libido. I said that to my therapist back then. She said that even if it was only very rarely registered, the possibility existed, and had been documented before. We changed the pills. I wanted sex. Hell, its only fair, right? A guy needs his fun, and at the time, sex and drugs were my only possibilities of fun. At least those were the only two things that gave me pleasure back then. The next anti-depressives weren't nearly as effective, but they gave me back my libido. I could have sex again, apparently. Except that my girlfriend wasn't exactly receptive to it, even though it was her that made me commit to changing drugs.
So, why would a guy go through that again? Really, I mean, why would I risk going back to the same drug that supposedly removed my sex drive? Especially when I'm living with my girlfriend (who, in case you haven't figured out, or aren't familiar with my story, isn't the same person as the one I was with at the time. She's the one that proved to me that I had a sex drive after the drug change.)? That was the exact question that my therapist asked.
I answered her. I wasn't even aware that I had an answer to the question, but I did. Hell, I wasn't even aware that I wanted to give the first drug a chance until the words "I want to try the other one again." left my mouth. But I caught her off-guard as much as I did the same to myself. Yet I spoke with such conviction, and with such reason that she let me have my way. Right now, I still doubt myself, but at that moment there was no doubt at all in my mind. I asked her: "What if the drug itself wasn't the problem? What if the lack of interest from my former partner was the real cause of the dysfunction? Because with the time that has past since then, and with a clearer sight of the facts, I think that was the reason."
I may be right, or I may be wrong. If I'm right, then I have in my hands the best substance to help me deal with my depression. I don't want to be wrong, because it would be a damn bad month for both of us if I am...
It is a risk, but every choice one makes in life is one. And the possibility of having a solution to my problems in my hands it's a risk worth taking. I'm sure she'll understand my choice. I hope she understands my choice...