Prozac and Perfectionism

I've taken Prozac (or rather, the generic version) for the past eight years. I HATE it!!!! I hate it that I need a drug and can't just talk myself out of depression. (Believe me, I've tried.) I hate the stigma society places on any kind of mental disorder ... in spite of the fact that half of the population of the developed world seems to be on some type of antidepressant! I hate the fact that half of society takes antidepressants, because it makes me wonder how over-prescribed they are, and if I really need to take Prozac at all. I wonder this until I stop taking it for a while. Some studies have shown that when women take Prozac in the third trimester of pregnancy, their babies' respiratory systems have trouble developing. There is no conclusive evidence that this happens for everyone, but it is a risk. So, my doctor suggested I switch to Wellbutrin. The difficulty is that Wellbutrin, excreted in breast milk, causes problems for nursing babies. I would have to switch back to Prozac after the baby is born. This all seemed like such a huge hassle and risk. I know how my body reacts to Prozac, but have no idea what Wellbutrin would do to me. So, with my doctor's approval, I decided to taper off the Prozac and then not take anything until after the baby is born. This seemed like a good idea, since summer sun and the reduced stress of not teaching school always help me anyway, and in the past I've been able to get by with half doses of Prozac during the summer. Now, however, I'm starting to question whether I've made a mistake. I am not out of control, but lately it is MUCH more difficult to deal with life logically, and to convince myself to be happy. I made an interesting discovery, though. As my emotions get a little out of whack, I tend to be more rigid about things I can control. I clean stuff meticulously. I plan events down to the last ticky little detail. I didn't even realize until now that this is a coping mechanism for me. It can be effective one. I feel a sense of satisfaction when I look at the sparkling clean newly mopped floor. This is far preferable to a sense of worthlessness and impending doom! Unfortunately, the "Meticulousity of Control" method of therapy has inherent flaws. There will always be something outside my influence that can ruin my best laid plans. (I spend hours washing every window in the house, and then it rains. I plan a fun outing with my sisters, but they want to do something else. I pick out the perfect sofa to go with our livingroom decor, but B hates it.) Luckily, I've learned enough about myself and my own cognitive distortions to recognize when I am being too perfectionistic (is that a word?) and rigid. I've learned to chill out. After all, if I try to distract myself from emotions which I can't control, by being a perfectionist about things which I can control, and then end up feeling upset when things which I can't control interfere, I've just created a vicious cycle spiraling down into a an infinite chasm of depression-a sucking, draining, inescapable doom-a black hole of despair sprinkled with a few brief sparks of false hope ... OKAY! Guess I'd better get back to picking those lint balls off the bathroom rug! ;)