Hormones and drugs and tears, oh my!

I have occasionally had the idea floating vaguely, half smug, half ashamed, in the back of my mind, that people who take mood-altering drugs could probably control their moods/emotions by themselves if only they just tried hard enough.

Of course, these are fighting words for anyone who has ever needed meds of this kind and it's a thought that I've pretty much kept in that vague, uncertain, unstated place in my head. For obvious reasons. It's a hidebound and intolerant opinion. And it's the kind of opinion that only those who've never needed such things will maintain. Like so many opinions formed on the very insecure basis of assumption and ignorance (and perhaps a bit of fear), it's offensive to anyone who has actually HAD any experience in that area.

I can say this because I'm coming off a horrific month where one day I'm feeling my normal self and then the next day I'm feeling physically exhausted and emotionally delicate, where I'm fighting back tears any number of times for any number of reasons, silly and otherwise. It's these nasty types of days where I feel like I don't know myself and I can't figure out why I feel so badly! Being the analytical type, I trot out all the reasons for depression/dissatisfaction/fear/sadness that I could possibly have. I think about them all and wonder which one is bugging me all out of proportion to normality. I come to conclusions and I try to suck it up and, if I'm lucky, I take a nap and feel a little bit better. Or if I'm not lucky, I just wallow and worry and drive my husband batty with my total exhaustion and my intermittent tears.

Then, I wake up the next day feeling totally normal, which for me means happy, energetic, optimistic and full of plans and ideas. I wonder what the heck happened the day before and I go about my business.

After a while of this bumpy ride this month (and in times past) it occured to me that I should perhaps start thinking about my thyroid meds. My thyroid, you understand, is being attacked and killed by my body. It's called Hashimoto's disease and it's an auto-immune kind of thing. It's hereditary and I have no control over it at all, of course. So, about 10 years ago I was put on a synthetic version of the hormone that my thyroid is supposed to be producing, but is not. And it made an immediate difference to the way I felt. Hormones are mysterious things, you know, filtering throughout one's entire system and affecting any number of things, known and unknown.

Anyway, my dosage has recently been fiddled with, sending my body and emotions into convolutions, trying to adjust to the new dose. And when I remembered this, it was an "aha!" and a bit of a relief to realize that THAT'S probably what is going on. Chances are that I'm not really drowning in my own exhaustion and emotion, it's just a temporary squall and I'm getting really wet. Gotta call the doctor.

But of course when I'm treading water in the hormone ocean, swallowing sea water, tiring out and getting chilled to the bone (metaphorically speaking), my thyroid meds are the last thing that occurs to me as what may be causing the problem. I turn myself inside out looking for what I'm doing that's causing my troubles. And I try to figure out what I can do to fix it. I have no idea I'm in the middle of the hormone squall and struggling in the high waves (there's my metaphor again). I just think I'm messing up somehow.

And that's kind of sad. And it's not helpful. So. Finally I called the doctor this morning and told her about how I'd been feeling and she reassured me: your body is just adjusting, hang in there. And I felt so relieved! That this WAS the reason for my uncharacteristic feelings! That it would get better! And that it wasn't my fault.

And, on the flip side, I felt irritated again at this evidence of my powerlessness--because my body just goes its own way, messing up my days, tying my emotions up in knots, affecting my ability to perform my duties and pleasures. And in order to take control of all those things, I gotta take that little pill every morning!

When I was first diagnosed, and I realized that I would be on meds for the rest of my life, I felt betrayed by my body. I was barely into my 30s and I was angry that my body was incapable of balancing things on its own. I've adjusted now, though, and I'm used to the idea. I've accepted the bottom line: I take a pill every day because I feel rotten without it.

And that's hormones for you. And a reminder for me. I have gained experience in this arena and can say with empathy: sometimes a medication makes a very big difference. Sometimes a person cannot control something without the meds. Even as I say it, I don't like it. Why? Maybe it's a control thing or an independence thing or a pride thing. I don't know. It doesn't matter. But maybe it's a good thing that every once in awhile, as we fiddle with dosages, I'm thrown into that stormy ocean again, tossed and ill and confused, and I remember how hard it is without these great medicines. And I'm grateful that somebody sometime figured it all out so all I have to do is swallow that little pill and I can have my normal life every day. And that there are lots of people who, like me, are grateful for those rescuing meds. Yeah, it's good to be reminded.

And today is a very good day. Tomorrow? We'll see. And can I say? Next time that controversial half-acknowledged opinion floats to the surface of my consciousness, I'm gonna knock it on its head and bury it deep. Because I've got that first hand experience. And I'm pretty incapable of changing that thyroid disease on my own no matter how hard I try. So thank goodness for those life-altering drugs. And good luck to anyone who's trying to find that dosage balance. May your stormy days be numbered, with lots of sunshine in your future (metaphor finis).