Day 44: Bearing All

Aren't we adorable?

Okay.

I've been fighting this post.

But, it is insisting on being written.  And posted.

So, here goes.

The last few months have been kind of rough.  Actually, I think the downhill slide began sometime in the summer.  But, that's not really important here.  Just that there was this gradual decline going on.  There were some ups, but not enough to get me back on top.

And then, October hit.  And hit hard.  And I found myself at rock bottom.

A place I'm fairly familiar with.

But, usually, I'm only there for a day or two and then I start to climb out again.

This time, I didn't.  I'm not entirely sure why.  I just didn't.  I stayed.  And it has been miserable.  Beyond miserable.  I've felt so completely and irreparably broken.  And completely lost as to how to ever become whole again.

And so devastatingly hopeless.

And I think that says enough without going into the full nitty gritty.

Finally (after several appointments in a very short period of time), my therapist met with me and HH and told me we had to change what we were doing.  Because what we were doing clearly wasn't working.

Sometimes, I think I like change.

But, I really don't.  I hate it.  It challenges me and complicates my routine.  And it can terrify me.

So, I was dismissive of all of his options for me.

I just wanted to be fixed.

I didn't want to have to do anything hard.  Isn't trying to cope with depression hard enough?  And I didn't want to do anything scary.

But somehow, in a brief period of mental lapse, I agreed to this "partial hospitalization program".

Yeah.

I (HH really) worked out all of the details and got everything set up for me to go (mainly just getting all kinds of help from my friends in watching my kids every day).  And then the mental lapse ended and I totally (TOTALLY) freaked out.  I might have had a hyperventilation episode in the shower.

I saw so many conflicts and complications.  And was overwhelmed with guilt about having my friends watch my kids.  And abandoning my kids every day.

And I was so so so very scared.

But, I was even more scared of what might happen if I didn't follow my therapist's counsel and change something.  So, last Monday I entered the program.

I'll be honest.  It's been really hard.  That first day was so upsetting and scary.  I think I said a total of two words the whole day.

But gradually, as the week wore on, things started to feel better.  I started to feel hope again.  Which was huge.  I called HH on my way home one day and he said, "You sound like you again!"  And a couple of friends have commented that I look like myself again.  And today even my psychiatrist (who has only met me twice) said I look better.

I hadn't realized that my voice and appearance had changed.  But, it's encouraging to hear that I'm getting back to me.

Even though it's only been a short time, it's been an up and down road.  This weekend I had two pretty big set backs over relatively little offenses.  So, I'm pretty sure I still have a long way to go.

But, I think the main thing is that I am going.  I'm making my way up that road.  It's taking me to some really painful places that hurt.  But, I'm learning a lot.  And accepting things.

I always thought it would be really depressing to attend group therapy.  I mean, a whole group of depressed people?  Yuck!

But, it's been quite the opposite.  It's so very freeing to be able to discuss my deepest insecurities and darkest thoughts and have people respond with understanding.  I'm amazed at how quickly I've become so comfortable.  Me, who likes to keep the entire world at arm's length.  But, it's just so reassuring and comforting to know that I'm not such a freak as I supposed.  And to learn how other people are trying to manage this.

And they also helped me get comfortable with the idea of taking medication.  I only just started last week, so it's too soon to know if, or how much, it will help.  But, I got over my fear of past side effects and I'm feeling optimistic.  It would be so nice to raise the platform on how deep I experience the depression.  If medication can help keep me above the lowest lows, then I suppose it is okay.

Every day is so much to take in and process.  It's been overwhelming on more than one occasion.  So, I'm sure I could ramble on here for about forever.

But, I think I've disclosed enough for one night.

One life time, maybe. :)

I just thought, if there is anyone out there reading this that is really struggling, I want you to know that getting help is scary.  But, it's not as scary as watching things get worse and spiral out of control.  I am one of (if not, THE) the most stubborn people I know.  If I can get over my hang ups and reservations to accept all of this help, I truly believe that anyone can.