12
Sep
16

the dance

That really is a perfect metaphor for one’s relationship with depression. Think about it; what is a dance?  According to Merriam-Webster it is a series of movements that match the speed and rhythm of a piece of music.

The dance that you perform depends on the mood of your partner. Tarantella perhaps?

Legend states that between the 15th and 17th centuries an epidemic of tarantism swept through the town of Taranto in southern Italy. This was as a result of being bit by the poisonous tarantula spider. The victim, which is referred to as the tarantata, was almost always a woman but never a high ranking lady or one of an aristocratic upbringing. Once bitten the tarantata would fall into a trance that could only be cured by frenzied dancing. People would surround the victim while musicians would play mandolins, guitars and tambourines in search of the correct rhythm. Each beat would have a different effect on the tarantata causing various movements and gestures. Once the correct rhythm was found it was almost certain that the tarantata was cured.  http://www.italiansrus.com/articles/tarantella.htm 

LOL, how appropriate is that?!

Or perhaps my partner wishes to dance the Twist?

The point is that the way you learn to relate to your depression is by shaking its hand and discovering how to become the lead in the partnership. You become the leader in the dance…in other words, YOU take control.

For me, Prozac helped to start me on the path to learn those skills. It allowed my insides to calm down enough to focus more on the here and now and surprisingly, some of Dr. F’s relaxation strategies began to work more effectively. This was a really good thing because around this time, I had a major career change. Moving from the K-12 environment to the ivory towers of academe was going to provide all sorts of new and exciting challenges. YAY! I was moving in a positive direction.

And then, inexplicably, I wasn’t.

The hurt and anxiety returned. I still wasn’t able to identify in myself when this was happening. My family, specifically, my husband, was acutely attuned to what was happening to me and would sometimes ask me if things were still OK…hint-hint… another visit to my PCP (who was now in the Rx loop and prescribing the meds for me) and the dosage was increased. OK, that seemed to help again so maybe that was it; I just needed a bit more of the Prozac to keep an even keel and maintain my lead position in our dance.

But, of course, I was wrong, and the worst was yet to come.

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