Try one patch, if it doesn’t help after a few weeks, then try two. Doubling up is a bit pricy, but they last for three days and you save consultation fees, I don’t know, I haven’t tried it myself, I am waiting to speak to my psychiatrist on Monday before doing anything independently.
I feel your pain, I personally think that most conventional antidepressants are enhanced placebos at best, and in many cases are not worth the side effects.
The scopolamine thing is interesting. I’ve used it myself…for seasickness. I don’t recall it making me any happier about being seasick, that’s for sure. =p (Just goofing off, there. I mean, yes, I did use it for seasickness, the patch, but only for a few days at a time) But I did swear that it was just pot in a patch form. 
What I really came in here for was to link to a Seattle Times article (by way of NPR) about the latest Seattle Shooter. According to family, he’d been depressed for years, and nobody who knew the guy was surprised. That is so sad, but…what CAN you do when someone refuses to treat themselves? 
Why? Plenty of people have clinical depression. (Lord knows I’ve had enough family members and close friends afflicted by it.) It sucks, but it’s not shameful.
If yet another friend or family member told me s/he had depression, I’d sympathize and commiserate with them, ask them if they were seeing a doctor about it, and if they were, ask them if their doctor had been able to match them up with an antidepressant yet that ameliorated the worst of the depression, and whether there seemed to be any side effects. And I’d ask them how things were going in general in dealing with it, regardless of the answers to the other questions, because I know that even if you’re taking a SSRI that makes life ‘normal’ most days, sometimes the depression wins a round or three anyway.
I don’t know if depression was his primary problem. I couldn’t work up enough energy to slap somebody, let alone commit mass murder.
I’d feel empathy but I wouldn’t think less of them. Depression is a medical condition that lots of people have. Being ashamed to admit to it would be like being ashamed of having asthma or diabetes - also medical conditions and seemingly as prevalent among my acquaintances.
Just to reiterate this. I went through 13 different medications before I found the combination that worked for me. In fact, the medication that works best for me is one of the first ones I originally tried years ago, and it had been such a long time I said, ‘‘What the heck, let’s try again.’’ I’m so glad I did. Again, I haven’t found a cure. But I will say that after 10 years of searching, I finally found a medication combination that significantly helps (Wellbutrin, Lexapro and Risperdal, for those who want to know.)
Haven’t tried this. Tried trans-cranial magnetic stimulation, which cost me $10,000 and didn’t work. Prior to that, I tried CBT, cognitive therapy, dialectical behavioral therapy, prolonged exposure therapy, EMDR, and Acceptance and Commitment Therapy. Tried exercise, meditation, eating right. I think I’m done trying to cure my depression. My doctors have concluded that there is a biological basis for it and that it’s not likely to go away any time soon. I’m just working on minimizing its impact on my life.
Well, you are still here, and still heading in the right direction, so they weren’t too bad.
Anyway, if you can’t get Ketamine, then try copolamine, you can get patches of it for “sea sickness”
Interestingly, I’ve temporarily cured my deep depression by missing a night’s sleep. It is of course inpractical and unsafe to do, but it’s a welcome bonus to have a day free from the annoying black dog
ARGH. I want to shake people who are afraid to talk about their mental illness because of shame or fear. I know it isn’t them, it’s external pressure, but it’s so danged frustrating! If someone would be ashamed of you for being mentally ill, you don’t need that person. Christ, I wish we could change that perception. No one feels ashamed to say they have cancer, depression is no different.
If someone reacts negatively to your admission of mental illness, it’s their problem, not yours.
I like to be open about my anxiety and OCD. Maybe by talking about it in public like one would mention having to use their asthma inhaler it’ll help people realize they don’t need to be ashamed of it.
This. I take a low dose of Paxil for what amounts to a piddly little anxiety disorder (which I’ve found, since getting in touch with some distant cousins, is known as the [Family Name] Curse among them), and it drives my mom apeshit when I mention it. Sorry, Mom, we can’t all just plaster on a smile and pull ourselves up by our brainstraps to just “snap out of it.”
Then I feel like a jerk for upsetting my mother and get…well, anxious.
Suck it up, Mom. It’s not a flaw, it’s not a statement about your parenting…it just is what it is.
It’s quite common for military folks in my line of work to not admit depression both because it is seen as a sign of weakness, and because it can prevent you from getting a security clearance. Personally, I would think it was a good thing for someone to admit and recognize they had a problem, if for no other reason than the fact you don’t want people doing things that could make it worse.
I would ask how I could help, but I realize in most cases it is not situational, and is more general/self esteem based. I have gone through periods like that, but for me, it was almost always situational, such as loss of a loved one, or my dog in one case, and bad job situations. Inevitably when the situation changed, the depression went away, but your mileage may vary.
To be honest, I can only think of two things that would make me not respond well to someone saying they are depressed: 1) when it is a clear mask for someone who doesn’t want to do something they don’t like because they are lazy (i.e. it ONLY surfaces at those times and not at any other time. 2) It is situational, and the person absolutely brought the situation on themselves despite people actively steering the person away the choice they made. I am very sympathetic to depressed people and know many myself where it is clearly legitimate, but we have also had a number of friends over the years that we have cut ties to because they are drama queens who actively create problems in their lives despite friends doing everything they can to prevent them and then play the “depression” card to get other people to fix the issues for them. That gets old very fast.
Brainstraps! Best phrase ever.
Oh, a lot of them helped tremendously. They just didn’t cure me.
I wish I could take credit, but I stole it from a friend!
My mom used to be the same way, she just wouldn’t accept it. But I was also 9 years old, and the first person in the family to talk about it. Once a couple years had passed and doctors confirmed that it was an actual illness and not just a passing thing I could fix myself she got a lot better about it. I still don’t like talking about it with her because it works her up, but she’s not mad at me, she’s scared for me so I understand it.
It made me feel helpless when my brother told me he has it. I know how shitty and unfair the illness it (it takes all the good in your life and makes it meaningless). I don’t want someone I care about to have to suffer with that. And since I can’t cure my own bouts of depression, I know I can’t cure anyone elses. FWIW, I have found things that make it better for me, but no ‘cures’. Just improvements.
I felt helpless, but I’m still glad he told me. I can’t think of a scenario where I’d rather not be told by a family member if they have a serious illness like that.
My family has always been weird about mental illness, since I have an uncle who is schizophrenic. His mental illness has affected our entire family in one way or another, and based on his treatment in the 70s they all developed a skewed idea of mental illness - you’re either out of your goddamn mind or you’re perfectly fine. Nobody wanted to be ‘‘like him’’ - nobody wanted to end up in a psychiatric hospital pumped full of powerful drugs.
But the reality is, both me, my Mom and my Aunt all suffer from severe chronic depression. I am 99% certain my mother has (particularly in the past) borderline personality disorder. Anxiety is typical. I have a bipolar uncle who killed himself when he overdosed on heroine just days out of the hospital. And that is exactly what happens when you don’t face the facts. The more you resist it, deny it, try to cover it up, the more it takes over your life.
I give myself credit for my family now having a more balanced attitude toward mental health. I have always been open about it with them and they have seen me go through the treatments and improve my life in one way or another. Both my Mom and my Aunt have now sought help, and I’d like to think it’s because I set a precedent.
So don’t be afraid to be the black sheep. It could lead to good things.
I think a lot of friends and family members feel this way, and it sometimes causes them so much discomfort that they avoid the subject of depression or even withdraw from the person with the illness. This is where the stigma of mental illness does the most significant damage, I think, because it isolates depressed individuals from the people they rely on for support and comfort.
Even enlightened people treat mental illness as something other than a disease. One of my family members recently went through treatment for cancer (which is currently in remission, knock wood), and the cancer and the treatments were discussed at length by all of us during a rare family gathering. We all remain in contact with that family member and check on his progress and contribute whatever resources we can to the struggle. In contrast, my only contact with my family over the past decade consists of monthly phone calls I make to my mother and biannual 10-minute phone calls from one of my several siblings, in which we discuss issues related to the rest of the family, the weather, and other inconsequential topics.
During the rare contact I have with my family, nobody asks how I’m doing, and any mention I make of a new medication or some little triumph I’ve had or any other aspect of my illness prompts only a quick change of subject. Their behavior is not caused by any resentments or family bitterness; we have always been a generally drama-free group. We’re not particularly demonstrative or affectionate with each other (heh, Minnesota Scandanavians, what can you do?) but we care deeply about each other and always had each other’s backs. They’re not ignorant or biased against people with mental illness. We’ve had a lot of depression and several suicides within our extended family. Still, the subject apparently makes all of them so uncomfortable that the only way they can cope is to avoid me and my illness altogether.
I’d probably be really bummed about being so isolated, but it fits in so perfectly with my view of the way the world works and my own personal worth that it just seems like Life, if you know what I mean.
I have it, my three sisters all have it currently or have had it in the past, my father had it and didn’t seek any help and wound up killing himself when I was a child (1970).
I’d be " OK, you’ve got an illness, how are you going to get treatment?" People can no easier “Just not be depressed” than I can just not be diabetic. It’s an illness that can and must be treated. If it weren’t for medication and therapy I doubt I’d be alive today.
Sigh…if I thought that was my mom’s issue, I might be more patient, but her whole guide for life is “What Will The Bridge (well, bunco these days, but whatever) Club Think Of This?”
Gods forbid anyone find out her daughter is “crazy.” And oh, my, the pearl-clutching that goes on when said daughter admits it out loud (and the discovery that it’s common on her side of the family…)