by cindy

It was a check-up. Nothing more. No urgent issues. No medical problems. Just a check-up.

We reviewed the list of medications: for hypertension, check; for cholesterol, check; for digestive issues, check; for anxiety…

“So, how is the Celexa working? How are you feeling?”

“Better. I’m feeling better.”

“Just better? Not good?”

Hmmm. I thought better was good. How does good feel? 

“I mean, Cindy, you are on a very minimal dose. We can increase the dosage if you think it would be helpful.”

Oh, dear. What is he saying? I never asked to be put on this anti-depressant, although I still remember the relief that swept over me when he suggested I try it. I remember that overwhelming sense of “Thank God. I am finally getting help.” I was so tired. So tired of being alone in a very small boat, waves crashing around me, over me, turbulence that might occasionally lessen but never really stop. I felt like I had been bailing water out of that boat for so long–most of my life–and suddenly I was losing the battle. Yes. I needed help, more than I had known.

I still don’t know what moved him to make the suggestion in the first place; I only know that tears quietly streamed down my face. So, yes, I do feel better. Is that not enough? Why am I feeling like I’ve fallen short of the mark again? Am I a failure in pill-taking too? Jesus Becky!! Am I ever good enough at anything?

“I think I’m fine with this dose. It has helped. I don’t quite know what I would feel like with more, or if I would even like whatever that feeling was.”

You don’t know, doctor, what lies in my past. You don’t realize just how much I have carried with me. Carried and buried and kept tucked deep, deep inside. Would more medication erase memories? I doubt it. I have managed as best I could for decades. Pain bubbles over sometimes, yes. Anger, too. Mostly sadness, though. Sadness and frustration. And for that, the medication has indeed helped. Should I be sorry that ‘better’ is my best? No, better is just fine, thank you. I’m happy with better. Let’s not overachieve here, okay? Besides, I really don’t know what good feels like. I might not like it, after all. let’s face it: I am who I am. And I am better. Really.

It doesn’t take much for uncertainty to cloud my day. Damn.