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- Элизабет Гилберт
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- Ешь, молись, люби
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He
put
me
on
a
few
different
drugs
-
Xanax
,
Zoloft
,
Wellbutrin
,
Busperin
-
until
we
found
the
combination
that
didn
’
t
make
me
nauseated
or
turn
my
libido
into
a
dim
and
distant
memory
.
Quickly
,
in
less
than
a
week
,
I
could
feel
an
extra
inch
of
daylight
opening
in
my
mind
.
Also
,
I
could
finally
sleep
.
And
this
was
the
real
gift
,
because
when
you
cannot
sleep
,
you
cannot
get
yourself
out
of
the
ditch
-
there
’
s
not
a
chance
.
The
pills
gave
me
those
recuperative
night
hours
back
,
and
also
stopped
my
hands
from
shaking
and
released
the
vise
grip
around
my
chest
and
the
panic
alert
button
from
inside
my
heart
.
Still
,
I
never
relaxed
into
taking
those
drugs
,
though
they
helped
immediately
.
It
never
mattered
who
told
me
these
medications
were
a
good
idea
and
perfectly
safe
;
I
always
felt
conflicted
about
it
.
Those
drugs
were
part
of
my
bridge
to
the
other
side
,
there
’
s
no
question
about
it
,
but
I
wanted
to
be
off
them
as
soon
as
possible
.
I
’
d
started
taking
the
medication
in
January
of
2003
.
By
May
,
I
was
already
diminishing
my
dosage
significantly
.
Those
had
been
the
toughest
months
,
anyhow
-
the
last
months
of
the
divorce
,
the
last
ragged
months
with
David
.
Could
I
have
endured
that
time
without
the
drugs
,
if
I
’
d
just
held
out
a
little
longer
?
Could
I
have
survived
myself
,
by
myself
?
I
don
’
t
know
.
That
’
s
the
thing
about
a
human
life
-
there
’
s
no
control
group
,
no
way
to
ever
know
how
any
of
us
would
have
turned
out
if
any
variables
had
been
changed
.
I
do
know
these
drugs
made
my
misery
feel
less
catastrophic
.
So
I
’
m
grateful
for
that
.
But
I
’
m
still
deeply
ambivalent
about
mood
-
altering
medications
.
I
’
m
awed
by
their
power
,
but
concerned
by
their
prevalence
.
I
think
they
need
to
be
prescribed
and
used
with
much
more
restraint
in
this
country
,
and
never
without
the
parallel
treatment
of
psychological
counseling
.
Medicating
the
symptom
of
any
illness
without
exploring
its
root
cause
is
just
a
classically
hare
-
brained
Western
way
to
think
that
anyone
could
ever
get
truly
better
Those
pills
might
have
saved
my
life
,
but
they
did
so
only
in
conjunction
with
about
twenty
other
efforts
I
was
making
simultaneously
during
that
same
period
to
rescue
myself
,
and
I
hope
to
never
have
to
take
such
drugs
again
.
Though
one
doctor
did
suggest
that
I
might
have
to
go
on
and
off
antidepressants
many
times
in
my
life
because
of
my
"
tendency
toward
melancholy
.
"
I
hope
to
God
he
’
s
wrong
.
I
intend
to
do
everything
I
can
to
prove
him
wrong
,
or
at
least
to
fight
that
melancholic
tendency
with
every
tool
in
the
shed
.
Whether
this
makes
me
self
-
defeatingly
stubborn
,
or
self
-
preservingly
stubborn
,
I
cannot
say
.
But
there
I
am
.
Or
,
rather
-
here
I
am
.
I
am
in
Rome
,
and
I
am
in
trouble
.
The
goons
of
Depression
and
Loneliness
have
barged
into
my
life
again
,
and
I
just
took
my
last
Wellbutrin
three
days
ago
.
There
are
more
pills
in
my
bottom
drawer
,
but
I
don
’
t
want
them
.
I
want
to
be
free
of
them
forever
.
But
I
don
’
t
want
Depression
or
Loneliness
around
,
either
,
so
I
don
’
t
know
what
to
do
,
and
I
’
m
spiraling
in
panic
,
like
I
always
spiral
when
I
don
’
t
know
what
to
do
.
So
what
I
do
for
tonight
is
reach
for
my
most
private
notebook
,
which
I
keep
next
to
my
bed
in
case
I
’
m
ever
in
emergency
trouble
.
I
open
it
up
.
I
find
the
first
blank
page
.
I
write
:
"
I
need
your
help
.
"
Then
I
wait
.
After
a
little
while
,
a
response
comes
,
in
my
own
handwriting
:
I
’
m
right
here
.
What
can
I
do
for
you
?
