No Anvils

Five months ago, I decide no more anti-depressants. I get blood work done.

Despite my challenges, I get B12 shots. A shit-ton of them. I start taking 5,000, then 10,000, IUs of vitamin D and a thyroid medication.

I stop eating gluten. My fatigue goes away, but my depression worsens.

I have thoughts. Not suicidal thoughts, but ones like, “If this is what life is, why would I ever want to inflict this on a child?” And feelings. Crushing feelings, which make me stand in the middle of my living room with my hands on my face, unable to move.

Three-and-a-half weeks ago, despite the fact that my insurance doesn’t cover them, I start taking amino acids. My osteopath says, “Take these 14 pills every day, and come back in a week.”

“A week?” I say.

“Yes, a week. You’ll know in a week.”

A week goes by.

Nothing.

“OK,” says he, “add this one, four of ’em, and come back in a week.” Eighteen pills a day. Very expensive pills. Not covered by my insurance.

Another week goes by. Still having moments where I might as well be under an anvil. Times when all the circumstances point to joy, times when my friends are saying,  “Isn’t this great?” And I think, “It should be. But no, it’s not.”

“Right then,” says my osteopath, “take four more of this last one, and come back in a week. If there’s been no change, we’ll do a urine test.” For one hundred eighty dollars. Not covered by my insurance.

I’m still depressed, and I’m mad and sad about being depressed, and I’m hopeless that I’ll ever not be depressed. I continue to swallow 22 pills a day. Very expensive pills.

And then last Wednesday afternoon, at the gym, I smile, genuinely smile. And I joke with the trainer, and I feel a lightness of being that I remember from long ago. I think back. For the previous couple of days, no anvils.

Immediately, I worry that it’s a fluke, it’ll go away, I’ll never find it again. But for an hour, maybe two, I actually. feel. good.

The rest of the week goes by. No anvils.

Last night, I’m at C & K‘s house, gabbing, singing along to “Sloop John B”, warming my back against the fire. And I think, “Isn’t this great?”

Hm.

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