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i'm sure me being a depressed lump of garbage is no secret around here; i'm not exactly cheerful or energetic or motivated or outgoing or productive or... you get the point: this was probably inevitable. long story short, my doctor prescribed me an antidepressant yesterday and even though i have my reasons for agreeing to it, i still can't help being upset about it. all my life i swore up and down i would never take antidepressants. the possible side effects scare me, ESPECIALLY the risk of weight gain. i just started losing weight again after over a year of it not budging, and i am damn near phobic of not being in control of my weight--or the rest of my body, for that matter. i've dealt with that enough in my life already. the fact that i can read a five page paper about it and still not feel like i really know what's going into my body scares me. ...having a diagnosis of some kind of mental/mood disorder scares me. i know i have reasons for my depression, and just because it's been almost lifelong doesn't mean it's some spontaneous disorder. life hasn't been that great to me, and i know exactly why i feel this way and what i need to do to get on track, but so far i haven't had the means. but the thing is, i don't know how long it will realistically be before i do have the means, so in the meantime, what the hell else is there to do? i don't have the motivation to function besides what's absolutely necessary. i don't have the ability to concentrate on or remember anything. working nights is hard enough on my ability to sleep without stress making it double. i barely have the strength to make it through work some nights, and when i'm not working i'm basically doing nothing. so after multiple failed attempts of people trying to push things on me, i said ok. i would start with a low dose, do a followup in two weeks, and try sticking with it for a month. if i really don't like it or feel like it's helping, it's not like i have to stay on it. but that doesn't stop me from being scared, or from feeling terrible just for agreeing to it. i don't know if it's the feeling of giving in, or the idea of being seen as someone with a mental disorder, or just the scariness of the drug itself, but as the clock started ticking on time to take my first dose, my hands were shaking and i was looking for ways to put it off and procrastinate because something about this shit just really upsets me. i am being a big fucking baby for no reason, and of course if i didn't think there was a chance of it actually helping me get through the hard time i'm going through right now, i wouldn't have agreed to it. but shit. shit on this, shit on meds, shit on me and my life. i just wanted to get through all this stuff without resorting to this, get my life sorted out, and finally try being happy. i keep telling myself it's just something to help me sleep and concentrate better, to help with my motivation and my ability to do my work. and i still hate it. even if it helps and doesn't have any ill effects, i hate it just for being there. and i hate me for feeling like i need it, or for letting other people think i need it. so somebody come fucking hold me while i throw a tantrum and act stupid because i am really terrified of meds.