These Things Take Time
November 27, 2013 § Leave a comment
I probably should be keeping better track of these things, but as it stands in my brain, I think I’ve been on meds for three weeks now? And seeing my therapist for two weeks. So far I don’t feel any effects of the meds, not even side effects really.
I like my therapist. Things are going much better than they did last time I went to counseling. But so far she’s just told me I’m already doing everything right — I’m already doing cognitive behavioral therapy on my own. Mostly she just validates my feelings and tells me I’m already doing what she would tell me to do. So…….. why am I going to her again? So far I’ve been relatively quiet. I don’t offer things, instead I let her ask me things, so sometimes we just sit there in silence for a few moments until she speaks. For the most part I’m just letting her know that I’m letting her be in control. It’s her space, it’s her job. She’s in charge. She needs to understand that I don’t automatically trust her either. I think she understands that.
I wish the meds would start working. It’s still early, of course, since they are supposed to take up to 4-6 weeks to kick in, but the doc seemed a little worried that I didn’t feel any differently. Dad said Lexapro is an intense anti-depressant so if I don’t start feeling it soon, maybe they’ll up my dosage? No idea. Trying not to think negatively of course, but part of me wonders if all this was false hope about feeling better. Maybe I can’t feel better. Could my body chemistry be that fucked up?
I’ve been feeling pretty bad this week. I thought I would be fine with missing the holidays, with making a point about how things needed to change up on the mountain (i.o.w. the family compound). But I’ve never missed a Thanksgiving or a Christmas before, I don’t think… I’ve certainly never missed a Christmas. Now that it’s getting closer to the days and everyone else is heading home and excited about seeing their families, I’m feeling that pang of loss. It would have been really complicated to coordinate going home for both holidays especially since I’m in such a tight financial situation and don’t have anyone here to watch Asha. But we could have made it work. Now I’m here alone for both holidays as a depressed person.
My therapist calls this period the “dangerous stage” because as I start to feel better (or start to hope that feeling better is going to be a reality for me), I’m starting to feel more angry about the decade I lost to depression and more anxious about relapsing in the future. Can you imagine how much more I would have enjoyed high school and college and grad school had I not been depressed? A decade lost to darkness. A decade of being miserable. A decade of hating myself and hating my life. A decade of living on a hope that one day, if I can hang on long enough, things will somehow get better. I’ve spent my entire life hearing about how much fun everyone else had in college, how people made life-long friends there and had all these experiences that changed their lives and showed them who they really were. I look back on college and see a lot of time spent alone, a lot of time spent working my ass off, a lot of time suffering through insomnia night after night and hours spent in panic attacks. Years spent thinking Alec was cheating on me or was going to leave me or was just stuck with me. College was awful. Grad school wasn’t much better. I’ve spent a decade crying and frustrated and teetering on the edge of suicide.
So I’m a bit angry. I’m a bit sad that I missed out on so much. Since the meds haven’t kicked in, I’m feeling a bit discouraged that that tiny gleam of hope I had is fading. Looks like tonight is turning into a crying night. That’s okay because crying releases stress and I’ve been stressed lately. Crying is okay sometimes. Crying is okay when I’m alone. It’s time for bed anyway.