I went to counseling last night. Final comments were I look much happier. I’m not. Oh, God, I’m not. Holding back tears, even at work, is still really hard for me. The last two times I’ve gone to counseling (which have been the only two times recently) I’ve been in a decent mood. Why? I have no idea. Maybe because the prospect of someone listening to me for an hour helps to the point where I’m relaxed enough to breathe through the depression. Or maybe it’s just coincidence. Or maybe it was the funny joke told on the radio before the session. At any rate, it’s so frustrating because I don’t want to be in a good mood. I want to be candid with the counselor. But at the same time, I’m afraid.
I just know everyday is a struggle. I want so bad to talk to my counselor. To tell him what’s going on. I’m not going to be normal; not going to be able to get through this. Anti-depressants don’t work. I’m not even sure whether counseling works anymore. It’s so hard just to get through the daily grind. So many days lately I just want to stay at home. To sleep all day. I’m increasingly tired, depressed… and there’s nothing I can do about it. I’m defeated. I’m defeated by an illness that even the lesser intelligent people can beat. That makes me weak, stupid, and alone.
I’ve been thinking of maybe trying meds again. The new drug, Abilify, I’ve wondered about. But it is so hard for me to think about trying out new meds. It’s like I get all hopeful about a new drug, and I just have that much farther to fall. It’s so disheartening and even more depressing realizing that the drug doesn’t work. That I’m one step closer to not having an answer; to having no hope at all. To being alone with no way out.
You know, what’s bad is that supposedly since I don’t want to actually kill myself (as opposed to just dying), people are more relaxed about my condition. She’ll be ok, there’s no danger of her committing suicide. But, when I wanted to kill myself, I had hope that things would get better. That if things got rough, there was some way out. There was always a glimmer of hope that way. Now, none. No hope that things will get better.
So hubby gave blood last night. He passed out afterwards. People kept saying it was his blood sugar. So he took it, and it was ok. But no, still it must be his blood sugar. Ummmm… no?! Why is it that people can’t understand that his blood sugar isn’t to blame for everything. Was also told that pork isn’t part of a diabetic’s diet. Ummmm… why? I need that one clarified for me. So does he. Interestingly enough, he had just been to his endocrinologist before this. Apparently this person is better than his doctor. It just upsets me as to how people try to do this thing where they know everything, but they really don’t.
He made it home alright though (I drove him). Made him dinner and let him sleep. He was doing much better this morning. Really had a toll on him I think.
So last counseling meeting… hmmm… didn’t talk about much deep crap; though I wish I had stronger nerves so I could talk about it. The counselor is the same one I’ve been seeing; same one that counseling Erik and I. I hadn’t seen him in over four months since I left my last job, so it was playing catch up on what was going on in my life.
But, it seems, even if the session weren’t spent playing “catch up” I don’t know how much I would have talked about. Opening up, well… it’s so hard for me. Everyone tells me I’m supposed to be ok. Look how great my life is! I have a job, which in these times is something in itself to be thankful for. I have a wonderful husband who can clean, cook, and still fix my car. Even got a great little dog.
Why can’t I be happy? What am I missing? The past haunts me so much. I relive things over and over again, so vividly. It takes so much strength and energy to focus on work at work. And still I end up crying.
My counselor asked me what if this is as good as life gets? … hmmm… my reply, and I still stand by it, is that I’m screwed. I know this will be something I live with the rest of my life. Something that won’t go away. Anti-depressants don’t help. Even friends don’t help because I can never fully convince myself someone would actually want to be my friend. It’s easy to convince myself everyone would be better without me in their life. It’s hard. It takes so much energy to snap out of it, to concentrate on what I need to. And then my husband wonders why I’m so tired.
I go back on Wednesday. I hope to be more open. But I’m not sure I can.
I have a counseling appointment on Wednesday. First time I’ve been back since starting thisnew job. I had to wait until I got sick time as I have to work until 5 pm, and to get to my appointment, I have to leave at least at 4:30 pm. So 30 minutes of sick time every two weeks.
I haven’t told my boss yet that this would be an on going thing. I guess I’ll just send an email every two weeks and hope that she is forgetful enough to not notice. So what if she wants proof that I was under some type of health person’s care? Can she require a “doctor’s note” and if so, how do you keep something like that private? Oh well.
I guess the bigger picture here though is I’m still scared to go to my counseling appointment. I feel all talked out, empty. What do you say once you’ve hit that point? Hello I’m depressed now what? I know… I know… I’m never going to beat this so I need to stop complaining. I watched Girl, Interrupted and Nell this weekend. I was in tears by Saturday night. So very hard to get through. Maybe because I connect so well.
I’ve started doing landfill inspections twice a week. One longer, one shorter trip. About 4 hours for the long one and 2 hours walking for the shorter one. It is so tiring I’m ready for this to be over with. I come home from the long one and just crash. Hubby’s nice enough to help out with the chores and cook on those nights.
Oh well, finally got my W-2, so hopefully we can get our taxes done soon.
This week will be busy… tonight bowling, Wed counseling and Thursday an AWMA meeting.