At a loss…

I had a counseling appointment yesterday. I didn’t get much accomplished in it; and therefore feel like I’m wasting his time. There’s so much I want to say; but the feelings and intensity are hard to describe. Sometimes I just want to sit there quietly crying, knowing there’s some sort of safety there. Don’t ask me to describe that in more detail; I can’t.

My husband reminded me last night that I can talk to him. Yes, I know that, but what am I supposed to say? The feelings are so overwhelming that trying to pin down what’s wrong right at this moment is hard. What am I thinking about? Hell if I know. What can you do to help me? Hell if I know that one either.

And what’s more is I can’t connect the feelings I have when I’m really down, like crisis down, to when I’m “normal” – or as “normal” as I’ll ever be. It’s like I myself can’t even comprehend the pain, the thoughts, unless I’m feeling them right at that second. All I can do is write and hope that someone somewhere down the line can understand me. And when they understand me, let me in on the secret, because I’m at a loss too.

So I’ve made an appointment with the psychiatrist. December 1st at 5 pm. Well at least I won’t have to miss much of work to go. I’m tired of having to take off time just to go to counseling sessions. I feel bad for taking off work, but at the same time, I feel upset that these people won’t work with me. I mean, why can’t I work from 7 to 4? These are the only people that I interviewed with that insisted on an 8-5 schedule. Unfortunately they’re also one of the few that offered me a job.

So, back to the psychiatrist thing. I don’t know why I’m going. Actually, yes I do: because my counselor told me to. That’s the only reason I do believe. I have no faith that the medications will help any more this time than they ever have (which is none). I don’t know if I can keep pushing myself to get better when it seems everything is going against me. How does one keep going after they lose all hope? Or better yet, WHY do I keep going after I’ve lost all hope for peace on Earth? I guess I keep going because of others, but that doesn’t quiet the rage I feel sometimes.

Yesterday’s Session

It was an interesting counseling session yesterday to say the least. I had written him a letter and given it to him the session before last. It was written on a day I was feeling particularly bad, so it was rather um, well, intense (if you scroll down a few weeks in posts, you will find the post where I typed it out here). He started out that he was worried about me. What a coincidence, I’m starting to get worried about me too… But seriously, sometimes the emotions are scary, and very so intense. It’s hard to think about anything besides how deeply depressed I am and concentration, and thus work, are hard. Tears come so easily now, and even being around my husband isn’t cheering me up as much as it used to. If I can stay busy, like really busy, then it makes things a little easier, but I’m still having problems. I’ve gotten through worse, yes, I know, but that doesn’t make the feelings any easier.

So, counselor suggested a psychiatrist. I had every intention of asking him for a referral yesterday, but just the fact that he brought it up first, made it harder. And I wasn’t even surprised that he suggested one. It just seems like defeat in a way. That I can’t beat this by myself, that I have to turn to medicines to help me get through the day alive. It feels like I’m a failure for not being strong enough to pull myself out of this.

I guess it doesn’t matter. Even if I wanted to, I’m not going to be able to go. I would have to miss too much work. I’m guessing about 1.5 to 2 hours every 4-6 weeks. I can’t afford that time. I only get five sick days a year. If I do happen to get sick, well, no more sick leave. And I don’t want to have to go through questioning as to why I’m having to miss so much. I already miss 30 minutes every other week. Given a choice between counseling and going to a psychiatrist, I would rather use what little time I can afford for a counselor over a psychiatrist. I know, a psychiatrist could make all my problems go away with the swallow of one pill. Maybe, or maybe not. I’m not willing to take that chance. I would rather fight this with the help of a counselor than to fight it with a psychiatrist. And I don’t have time to do both.

Meanwhile I’m looking for another job. One with enough flexibility that would allow me to go to these doctors appointments without having to ask for time off. In a way, it’s also not so much about the time I need off, as opposed to actually having to ask my boss for it off. I don’t want questions, and we have to send an email out to everyone every time we leave the office. I just don’t want any questions. I don’t want to have to reveal how much I’m struggling to everyone, to make my boss question whether I’m too much trouble to keep.

How far would I go?

I was recently asked if stigma wasn’t an issue, how far would I be willing to go for help. It’s a good question, a reflective one. One that requires me to figure out what I want from life… do I want to get better, or do I want to die. If no one would judge me because of my “problems” would I be more willing to be hospitalized and get help or would I take a different route. This has been a question I have struggled with since I was a kid. Counselors have tried to tell me, oh I don’t really want to die, I just want to pain to stop. I’ve always questioned that. I guess I believe that even if the pain did stop for some strange reason, it would only be temporary. What’s the point in struggling to get better, if I am just going to fall again? I can’t remember the last time I was happy; so in a way, it’s kind of one of those things where I don’t know what it’s like to be happy. So what am I missing? Heck if I know, or care…

It’s hard to wrap my head around the fact that some day I might get better. I might get better, really? What’s that like? Who will I be like if/when I get better? It’s always been something I’ve thought about. I’ve dealt with the depression for so long, that in a way, it defines who I am. I know people say that depression isn’t who I am, but I think that is wrong. Depression affects so much of my personality, who I’m willing to reach out to, who I’m willing to put up with, that to say that depression doesn’t define me is wrong. Even IF I do get better, depression has still defined my life. I have struggled with it for way to long for it not to have.

Back to the question at hand though. What lengths would I be willing to go to if the stigma wasn’t there? I’ve thought about hospitalization for some time, as in years, um, lots of years. Unfortunately, even if the stigma wasn’t there, I would still have to leave my husband and dog behind for the length of the stay. Yes, I know, lame, but still. I would have to leave work for this length, and if I don’t have the sick days, then I would have to take a cut of pay. I would have hospital bills. A five day stay I have little hope for helping, as I am always so slow to trust, and I have no hope medications would work in that short time span. Even a thirty day stay I have little hope for helping. So, what’s the point?

Suicide won’t work either. How fair would it be to leave everything behind, including bills, work, etc just because the pain was too great? How fair would it be for someone to have to find me dead because I couldn’t handle everything everyone else seems to be able to handle alright? So I keep trudging along, wanting the pain to be over, and knowing it won’t go away.

So the bigger question, finances and stigma aside, which choice would I chose. Well, both are there, and aren’t going away, so I’ll just leave that up for you to guess.

Having a hard time… again

So it’s another one of those days when I’m left wondering what’s the point. I do the best I can. It seems that best is never good enough. I have a counseling appointment on Wednesday of this week. I am pretty afraid of it. I know I’m way down, even for me. I’m having a hard time at work, at home, just not crying. I put a fair amount of energy just getting through the day half way sane. I don’t know what the problem is, why all of a sudden I’m struggling again. Maybe I’ve always been, but just not had the insight to know until I sit down and think about how much I’m spinning my wheels just to stay afloat. I have no idea what to tell my counselor this week. Yes, I want to die. No I don’t have anyone to talk to about the feelings in between counseling sessions, at least face to face. Sometimes I think being lonely is the best though. Trying to explain the intense emotions to someone else usually winds up with me being told to snap out of it, or that I’m smart enough to control my emotions, or some other crap that is supposed to make me feel better, that only makes me feel worse.

Work isn’t helping either. I changed jobs just over a year ago because I thought this type of work would make me happier. It hasn’t, and I’m bored with it. I’m ready to go back to construction inspections. At least then I was having to talk to and be around people a lot. While I didn’t feel like it alot, at least I had to pretend in front of them. It’s harder when I’m in my office and don’t really see anyone all day long. I’m more apt to know that I can cry and get away with it, and so I do. Which means my emotions are all over the place during the work week, and I just want to go home and go to sleep. It was never this bad at my last job. I don’t know if it is because of the structure I had there, or whether I just really hate this type of work that much. Either way, I’m struggling here.

We at least got some work done this weekend. We planted a redbud tree, an apple tree, some blueberry and blackberry bushes and some mums. We still need to plant two butterfly bushes, but we ran out of top soil. We were tired on Sunday. Didn’t make it to church either, which is a whole other blog post. I mostly enjoy my time home with my husband. The depression isn’t as hard to fight. I wouldn’t go out on a limb and say it’s easy, but it’s more manageable, well until I stay up later than him, then I’m back to having problems again.