Still Searching

by Marilyn Long-Tims

Clearwater, FL

from Winter 1996

After reading your newsletter, Vol. 3, Issue 3, it seems that I have enough new hope to write. Flipping the radio on as I open the morning paper, I hear about and find articles that outline the different stages of depression and information on what to do and where to go to get help for these maladies. Later on, I turn on the TV and there again, a barrage of warning signs which are to alert one to such things as depression, drug abuse and alcoholism, followed by " . . . if you don't get help from us, please get help somewhere . . . "

I have allowed many people inside my head, for more than 30 years. From the lowly social worker to a paid psychiatrist, and that's not to mention my two voluntary visits to a state institution. Why can I not find the right help? Once, I was told by a social worker that I did not "have the skills to be in group therapy." I was totally blown away because I had never been aware that "skills" were needed.

Well, talking about a joke, this is the biggest one I every heard in my 55 years of life. Sure, there is help, but how useful is it? Speak to your physician and s/he wants to prescribe anti-depressants without having any real medical background, nor even a chemical profile to assist in his choice of drugs. Spend months finding a mental health counselor (if possible, because all I have available is Medicare) and he gets the MD to write a script for Zoloft, never giving a thought to informing you that this can cause constipation, dizziness, splitting tongue, insomnia, messing with the libido, gastrointestinal pain, just to mention a few side affects. Of course s/he is not aware of, nor does s/he make himself aware, the many physical problems, the major being sleep apnea. After a few months of these side effects, I quit taking the pills. On the third visit to the counselor (after stopping Zoloft), I'm told how obvious it is that the medicine is working well because I have on make-up and colorful clothing. I did continue to see him for a few more times, but decided not to waste his time anymore because he saw what he wanted to see. This last nonsense occurred in late 1994.

Even though I found the strength to go on a little while, there is nothing left for me. I've even thrown myself into full time volunteering, trying to help myself. How do I go forward with all of this emptiness. I'm sick to the deepest part of my soul of trying to find inner peace. There has got to be another way, but I'll be damned if I can find it. Help.