I have a friend that I am very close to. I've known her for about four years and most of that time I was a total mess (or we weren't in touch). As it turns out, so was she. While I am pretty obvious when something is wrong, she was the type to suppress it. I'm also pretty oblivious but I don't think it was entirely me not noticing. Things progressed and now she is facing these things head on for the first time--including medication. I try to guide her through the process as best I can, especially since she can't stand acting when she doesn't already know the outcome. One thing which came up in a conversation about depression and medication was how do you know when the meds are working/right?
I had a lot of difficulty when starting meds because, unlike many sufferers, I had no idea what normal people felt like on the inside. I had been depressed for as long as I can remember (okay, just since I was 10) and it's hard to know when the antidepressant is working, when you don't have an understanding of another internal state. I'd try to gauge it based on whether or not I felt different than before I started, but was left feeling much the same. My parents would say they could tell a difference but I couldn't feel one.
It wasn't until my third time in the hospital when I was put on the meds I'm on now and, while I did end up overdosing a week later (I don't deal well with med changes it seems), the next morning I knew they were the ones. I cried most of the day but it was out of sadness, not depression, and I just knew. The opposite of depressed isn't happy. I don't think we have a word in English for the state of not being depressed, so I just call it "not-depressed." It's like neutrality--right in between the hyper, manic state and the lethargic, depressive state--a feeling that is an empty palatte. When you experience it, you know. Personally, I value not-depressed much more than I will ever value happiness.
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