Anti-depressants. You've got to be shitting me.

Literally.
Seeing as how I can barely function and get through the day, I realized I needed professional help.
In the old days, I would have just ordered a bunch of junk online, but seeing as how I am:
1) Older (fuck)
2) Wiser (maybe)
3) Without a credit card anymore
4) OK, wiser
I knew it was time for help. And let me tell you what is almost as scary as realizing that you need professional help to deal with your depression.
Getting an appointment with a doc.
I started making the phone calls in December only to be told I would be on waiting lists, could get an appointment in April or to go to a clinic.
And let me tell you, I live in a major metropolitan city AND I have health insurance. Not that that makes me any better, it just shows some insight as to what our health care system is like. I can not even imagine people in need of mental health care who do not have insurance or other resources. That thought alone depressed me even more.
I got lucky. Truly lucky.
I found a doc who recently left a large practice run by the county and went out on his own. He was able to see me New Years Day.
If felt like a sign.
Even better? He understands my soon-to-be situation and offered to assist me with pricing and samples as I may be without health insurance for a period of time.
But, back to the point.
He did tell me the anti-depressants may cause an "upset stomach" for a few weeks.
Oh boy, he wasn't shitting me.