It’s interesting being at this stage in my life, a life as a chronic depression-sufferer. I am such a seasoned veteran of depression by this point that most can’t even tell I’m depressed. A therapist admitted to me a few years ago that she could not tell that I was totally freaking out sitting right in front of her. I attribute this not only to how long I’ve been dealing with these issues, but also to growing up in a family who hid problems and marched on because any wrong step could throw us into a very scary situation from which we might not recover. I’m somewhat thankful because it has made me stronger, and I can keep functioning even under terrible circumstances. The downside, of course, is that I often forget that I’m no longer living on a precipice and it takes a lot longer for me to realize that I’ve reached the point where I have stopped participating in really living.
As you all know, I realized some time ago that I needed help. Well, I am finally getting it. I contacted my doctor last week and she immediately got to work with a referral to the mental health department. Embarrassing questions were asked but now things are in motion.
My first intake appointment is in a week and a half. I will be spending the whole morning getting acquainted with the system, meeting with mental health professionals, and possibly even participating in group therapy. I am interested to see what I get out of all of this because it sure seems like a lot to do in a few hours time. Also, we leave for a trip to Wisconsin the very next day.
I feel relieved even though I still have paperwork and talking to do before I actually get treatment. It has also helped that we have the daycare situation squared away so I don’t have to expend enormous amounts of energy worrying about that. I am looking forward to returning to a healthier state of mind. I am looking forward to really living.