So long, Lexapro; Hello, Zoloft

I hate this. I hate trying new meds. I hate dealing with side effects and indecision about whether they are side effects or just the depression, etc. Hate is a strong word I prefer not to use; it is a word of anger which is born of fear. Last night side effects had me groaning in pain, half-asleep, aware enough to be full of fear that this will never change for the better. I knew that was not good thinking, so I woke up Rog and asked him to repeat a certain phrase for me, over and over which helped.

By now, you probably know I am not religious, but I am spiritual. A friend recently told me a story which stuck with me. I paraphrase it, so it's not exact, but the gist of it is correct. During WWII, a gentle man, a Quaker had to get a job. He was in desperate need and finally secured a place in a factory; a rather rough place with much rough and profane language. After his first day, he went home in consternation. He didn't know what to do as he felt he could not work around such language, but he really needed the job, so he spoke with his god. He received a message. Each time someone used rough language, he was to send them the thought, "May God bless and wake you up!" The next day, he did just that and things seemed to go better. He continued to work there until the war was over. His boss came up to him then and said he didn't know what the Quaker had done with his unit, but if he'd had a dozen more of them, working so well, it would have really paid off.

So, my friend tells that story to everyone, even little children in Sunday school and she tells us all, it doesn't hurt to look in the mirror and say "God bless and wake ME up!"

So, that was my mantra last night. It was the only thing that came to my muddled mind as l fell asleep to Rog repeating it over and over.