Just kidding. Unless you consider ugly crying, stale sweat pants, and questionable hygiene to be sexy – I mean, to each their own, I guess?
As soon as I acknowledged my depression, it’s almost as though I became Depression itself. It just so completely took over every part of my life. The hundreds of pillars that made up the foundation of me crumbled and collapsed one by one, day by day. My pillar of worthiness crumbled on Wednesday. On Thursday my pillar of intelligence collapsed. On Friday my pillars of passion and desire dissipated into dust. Damn it. Depression really does have a way of ruining all of the fun, doesn’t it? As it turns out, depression and anti-depressants have a way of ruining a lot of people’s fun.
The prevalence of sexual dysfunction has been reported to be about 60% among patients taking SSRIs. […] Identifying sexual dysfunction associated with antidepressants is complicated by the fact that these or similar symptoms are also associated with depression. Up to one half of depressed patients who have not been treated with medications experience sexual dysfunction.
-Sarah T. Melton, How is Antidepressant-Associated Sexual Dysfunction Managed, Medscape
Surprise surprise, nothing about depression is sexy.
I was no longer shiny and brand new. I had faded into dark poetry, filled with self-pity and rust. My womanhood was replaced with a lifeless and burdensome version of the girl I once was. Depression and Cipralex robbed me of my playful, my sparkle, my sexy, my charm, and I hid under the covers waiting for my husband to wake up one day and realize the shit bargain he had got in marrying me.
Would he remember the woman in me and wait for her to come back home?
Photos taken by Jennifer Grimwood, GingerSnap Photography