I have been treated for depression twice in the past. I’m getting ready for round three. I didn’t want to do this, but I don’t really see any other option at this point.
This time, I’ve been depressed for at least a year, maybe longer. It’s hard to pinpoint precisely when it started. It’s been hanging over me for a very long time, I know that much. I’ve told no one, which seemed like a good idea, but now I think I was wrong.
I told Dan last night, and I felt so much better when I did. He immediately reached out to take my hand and he held it for a long time while we talked. When we went to bed, he held me until we fell asleep. It felt so good.
We’ve had so many problems over the past year, most of them a result of my depression, I think. My inability to generate any interest in anything, my lack of energy, has led him to feel that I don’t care about him, about us, about anything. I do care very much about him, and us, and everything else…I just can’t do anything.
It felt so good to have his support last night. Just telling him about it lifted a weight off my shoulders. I suspect he already knew, and was just waiting for me to come to him. I can’t imagine any man having put up with how I’ve been unless they suspected what was really wrong. And of course, he knows me well enough to know that trying to rush or force me to do something or deal with something that I’m not ready for isn’t going to do any good. I’m very stubborn and resistant to doing anything I don’t want to do.
I know I shouldn’t have let this go on for so long. I’ve let this have a massive impact on my relationship, my kids, my entire life. An impact it might not have had if I had simply admitted what was going on months ago and begun treatment.
Something else that I’ll be discussing with the doctor is the possibility that I also have some kind of anxiety. Even Dan has noticed that I seem to worry…a lot. And about things that either won’t/can’t happen, or are so unlikely to happen that it doesn’t matter. Sometimes it’s stuff that is going to happen, but there’s nothing I can about it, so there’s no point in worrying, but I do it anyway. It’s pretty much constant…sometimes it feels like I *look* for things to worry about.
I haven’t yet told my parents. I know in the past they’ve been supportive; hopefully they will be again. Regardless, I know I have Dan’s support, and that’s enough. Once I get on meds, and get things evened out and back on track, then our relationship should improve, as should everything else in my life.
I’ll no longer have to fake it and put on a happy face while I go cry in the shower at night. The mere thought of that is enough to make me happy for a little while.