I gained 20 lbs, but at least I don’t want to die anymore

Yeah. Putting it out there, my biggest insecurity and a huge internal battle. I started meds, antidepressants specifically, and I gained 20 lbs. But hey, at least I don’t want to die anymore.

I first went on antidepressants, Zoloft specifically, in 2012 when I had depression and anxiety for the first time. College was rough. I gained 30+ pounds and weighed a little over 200 lbs. It was a huge insecurity of mine. I ate junk food all the time because it was the only thing that made me feel better. Plus, Zoloft has a side effect of weight gain. When I reached a point in my recovery that I didn’t need to rely on the antidepressants, I kept going to therapy and was able to add nutrition and physical activity into my life. I dropped the 30 pounds and I’ve maintained that weight for the past several years. That is, until now.

I’m close to what I weighed when I first had depression. That horrifies me. Like, I can’t convey how much I hate that. I don’t want to die every day anymore but internally I’d rather be dead sometimes because of what I look like. Yikes, but hey, that’s the truth.

Yeah, I don’t want to die anymore. That was a tough one for me. I was doing alright, I mean, considering the trauma and everything. Therapy has been a huge help, like huge x100. My therapist had told me I have PTSD but therapy was helping. And then in January the police called and said they weren’t pressing any charges. I wanted to die. Sincerely. I wanted to die. I wanted to end my life, to not be here anymore. And the worst part of it? I had a reason to die. If I killed myself, I’d be with Kirby and Daisy again. And that’s the truth. I’d leave the pain of this world behind and be with Kirby and Daisy at peace again. Together again. They were waiting for me. I could be with them again. I wanted to be with them again.

But instead of killing myself, I sent a Snapchat to my best friend.

“I think I have depression,” I said.

“Uh, yeah,” she replied with a picture of her face clearly saying “duhhhhhhhh.” She followed up with “After everything you’ve been through, of course.” I love her, we have our mental health struggles together and we bond over that.

So I told my therapist that I was thinking of going back on meds. She recommended me to a psychiatrist and I set up an appointment. We went through the same old checklist, and she officially diagnosed me with depression, anxiety, and PTSD (which I’d already known but now it’s in the books). She prescribed me 50mg of Zoloft to get me started. The nausea was intense the first few days. I felt dizzy and sick but the alternative was wanting to die. 50mg was helping so we decided to go up to 100mg, the same I had been at in college. It was working. I didn’t want to die every day. My appetite was kicking up, which was good at first because I was craving nutritious food again, but I was never full. No matter what, I was always hungry. And so in the 4 months since I’ve been on Zoloft, I’ve gained a little over 20 lbs. And I hate that. But at least I don’t want to die anymore.

Back in March, I was visiting my sister in Nebraska. “Can I say something?” she had said. “Not to be offensive,” she added. “Sure,” I said. And then she commented on the last time I weighed over 200 pounds. “I don’t associate that as the real you,” she said. She added that she just always thought of me as being the 30~ less weight. Ouch. Because right after she said that, I started noticing my weight going up again. 20+ lbs. That hurt.

So what’s the alternative then? You don’t associate that as the real me? The one with struggles, trauma, mental illness, the one trying to survive. Is that not the real me? Because to me, that’s exactly the real me. 20+ lbs is the real me. The real me is a survivor. A fighter. Fighting to survive, fighting for my life. I chose life, I chose antidepressants to help me choose life. The 20+ lbs is a sign that I am a fighter. I am a survivor. I haven’t given up yet and I won’t. I will always be a fighter. So here I am. 20+ lbs, but at least I don’t want to die anymore. I am choosing to be here. Something I was fighting against 4 months ago. I was ready to die. Kirby and Daisy, we were so close to being together again. But your mama is a fighter and she’s got some more fighting to do in this life. Your mom is a survivor. I, I am a survivor.