I should have been blogging
The past year has been the proverbial emotional roller coaster. I have been in therapy consistently since January 2011. I went because the grief over my Dad’s death was taking over my life. I knew I had serious issues I had to get out of my system. I hoped that by doing this, I would be a better wife and mother. I cried. I wrote lists. I read about coping skills. I slowly began to feel better about myself and get a view of what I want out of my life.
Even with this new found value system, I was still mired in depression. I did all that I could do to make everyone around me comfortable to the point of physical exhaustion. I blamed my sleepiness and headaches on allergies. Late that spring, M went on a work trip to the east coast. The timing could not have sucked more. By mid-summer, my dear therapist sent me across the hall to the psychiatrist. My symptoms were contradictory to the progress I had made in my sessions plus the Effexor I was taking should have been enough. Ugh, the last time I saw the psych, he just threw more prescriptions at me and sent me on my way. Then he told me that that doctor had been booted for the reasons I cited and there was a new provider in the medical department.
With a heaving sigh, I made an appointment. I am so glad that I did. Dr. P and I clicked right from the start. She is friendly and kind yet doesn’t pull punches. She told me that without my high intelligence, I very likely would have taken a tragic turn years ago. That was a compliment and a shock. After describing my past and going through a few questionnaires, she concluded that I fall smack into the protocol for Bipolar, most likely Type II. Damn. Another check on the “just like my parents” list. I know see her every few months for check ups. Each time, she remarks on how much better I appear. From someone who is trained to read minds, that is an honor.
When M called me after work (still working out of state) I mumbled my diagnosis. The response he gave felt like a “duh.” He was coming home in a few weeks and I placed hope above hope that having him back home would boost my mood.
TO BE CONTINUED