Mental Health Blog - antidepressant treatment review

I just found out that my favorite professor and former academic advisor, Dr. B, has been appointed by the Provost to serve as the Associate Dean of R-MC, and I have mixed emotions about her promotion.

Don't get me wrong, I'm thrilled for her, but I worried about the effect this will have on the friendship (?) I have with her. Perhaps I'm being entirely selfish, but I cant' help but to feel this way.

She's a wonderful woman, educator, and professional, and I can't think of anyone else who deserves this wonderful opportunity more than she does. Dr. B is worthy of the power and pay raise that come with the title of Associate Dean.

She has an impressive amount of accomplishments and accolades on her resume. This past year she was selected as a Supreme Court Fellow, only one of four out of the entire nation. She worked long hours with the U.S. Sentencing Commission doing God knows what. Earlier in her career she had been selected as a Congressional Fellow and worked on Capitol Hill.

Let me go back and explain why I'm concerned about what effect this will have on our relationship.

Dr. B was my academic advisor my freshman and sophomore years of college. I came to trust her (one of the few people I do trust) and confide in her about my problems. I talked with her regularly about the emotions that were coursing through my mind, and I always left her office with the feeling that someone really cared about me and my well-being. However, I always felt guilty later because I felt as if I was bothering her and taking up too much of her time. I have conveyed these feelings to her on several different occasions and she has always assured me that I wasn't bothering her and that she wanted to help.

During one particularly terrible day I went to her for support and advice. She told me that she thought that I was clinically depressed and that she wanted to me consult the College's Counseling Center. I went there within the next week and was diagnosed with anxiety and depression.

I was given the name of a recommended psychiatrist in order to receive medication to alleviate the depression and anxiety. Dr. B took time out of her busy schedule in order to drive me to the hospital where the doctor was located. She even waited for me in the doctor's office. I must admit I felt much more at ease knowing she was out there, because I absolutely couldn't stand the psychiatrist. He was a pompous asshole who sat in his Eames chair and thought he was the be all to end all.

After the appointment she offered to take me to lunch and just told me to tell her where I wanted to go. I never did, even though she repeatedly asked; I didn't want to eat in front of her. I hate to eat in front of people I look up to and respect. I've never told Dr. B why I didn't want to have lunch with her that day she took me to the doctor or any of the other times she's offered.

I stopped taking the Lexapro that doctor prescribed because it was making me fat, lazy, and not concerned with anything, including my school work. Since I took myself off of it without tapering off, the emotional consequences were severe. I know I wasn't a fun person to be around while the drugs were exiting my system, but for some reason Dr. B tolerated my wild mood swings.

She then offered to take me to Patient First (similar to a clinic) in order to get a different type of anti-depressant. I hesitantly accepted her offer; I always felt weird going places with her, because I didn't want to bother her, take up her time, or embarrass her. This time I was given a choice of what medication I wanted to try, and I settled on Zoloft.

After a few weeks, I stopped taking it cold turkey, as I felt it was doing nothing for me. This was a mistake. I became unmotivated, unproductive, and increasingly agitated and depressed. I couldn't handle the stress of school like I once did, and one night I snapped. I wasn't motivated to finish a short paper for my management class. After the library closed, I realized that I would not be able to finish the assignment. This sent me over the edge, and I became suicidal.

I decided I was going to throw myself in front of a train. This would be quite easy since a set of tracks runs through the campus. I grabbed my cell phone, walked to the tracks, and sat on a dividing wall while waiting for the thing which would relieve me of the enormous amount of pain I was feeling.

I called my best friend, Rebekah, and talked with her. I never told her what I was planning to do; I think I just wanted to talk to someone one last time before I ended my life.I waited, and waited, and waited, but no train showed up (which was unusual because trains are constantly running on those tracks).

However, one of my friends, Beth, came walking around the corner. She had dragged her roommate out to help her look for me because she became concerned for me because of the way I was talking with her on AIM and the fact that I ended our conversation without warning and signed off. She saved my life because she talked with me for a long while until I felt better and no longer wanted to end my life. Then she and her roommate walked me back to my room in order to ensure I got there safely.

The next day I went to the professor of my management class and explained, in brief, the previous night's events. He wasn't sympathetic and told me that I had to turn in whatever I had completed and there was no chance of an extension. This made me feel deeply depressed and upset.

The first thing I did was go to see Dr. B, because I knew I would feel better after I had talked with her.After relaying to her my near death experience, she became deeply concerned. She wanted me to go back to the Counseling Center, because she felt that I needed professional help. I had stopped going there because I felt that the counselor I had was patronizing, although she was kind. Dr. B told me that I should try to see another counselor there, and recommended one. I don't think she trusted that I would actually go, so she offered to set up an emergency appointment with Dr. S. This counselor had an opening in the afternoon, but couldn't see me before then (it was mid-morning at this point).

Dr. B graciously offered to let me stay in her office until the appointment (once again I think this so that she could make sure that I actually went to the appointment). She had a lunch meeting she had to attend but told me I could stay there until she returned. I decided to do just that, as I was still pretty upset and didn't want to have to deal with other people at that moment.

I ended up falling asleep on her floor while reading "Wuthering Heights." She returned at some point and I woke up just in time to make my appointment. I must admit I felt odd waking up on her office floor, and I'm sure she felt the same way returning to me passed out on her rug.

When I met Dr. S she seemed nice enough. We talked and she made sure I was no longer suicidal, and we made an appointment for me to visit her again the following week. I'm still seeing her every week when I'm at school. I've grown to trust her almost entirely (but this is a story for another day).

When I learned Dr. B was selected as a Supreme Court Fellow I had the same feelings I have now. Estatic for her, but concerned about how it will affect me. She would be gone for an entire school year, and I wouldn't be able to talk with her about my problems.

My current psychiatrist, Dr. T, says I have abandonment issues, and perhaps she's correct. She says that when Dr. B left for D.C. that I felt as if she was abandoning me and never coming back, which is plausible.

I know that she'll be on campus this year, but she'll be less accessible to me and I'm not sure how she would feel about me coming to see her. I'm terrified of how she thinks of me. I don't want to be that annoying girl that always talks to her and just flat out annoys her to the point of her not liking me. I'd rather never talk to her again, that way that's one less negative way she could view me.

I see my psychiatrist on Wednesday so I'll discuss this with her in order to get her insight on things.