I finally got what I wanted. Or so I thought. After that fateful day everything would be perfectly fine and I’d get some pills and I’d have something in hands that will either tell me I’m weird and a sad person or ‘congrats, you’re just a lazy f***er’. Turns out I didn’t get a sheet but let me explain from the start.
The appointment was okay. Though I can honestly say I have never ever felt that uncomfortable in my life sitting in the waiting room waiting for the doctor to call me in. I almost backed out too when I arrived at the corner of the street. For the few minutes I had to wait I felt like doomsday had finally arrived. Like sitting at the dentists waiting for a root canal treatment knowing there’s no anesthesia left for your therapy. You just know it’s gonna hurt like hell but it’s either the treament or even more pain. It was awful.
On the way there I felt shaky like I had just drunk at least 3 litres of coffee – and I have to tell you I can’t even handle a single cup without being annoying as hell to everyone around me – and my eyes were watery, my breaths short. I was so scared. I kept telling myself I would be fine. I could always see another doctor. I could always just get up and leave or tell him in the last second that I didn’t need anything really.
Turned out all my panic was unnecessary. The talk lasted for like 20 minutes but only after five minutes or so he told me I was not seeing ghosts, that it was good I was seeking help and that it was stupid of me to wait this long. I should have come earlier and when I tried to explain why I couldn’t, I felt stupid little tears running down my face. Maybe it was the relief. He took a burden away from me, I had carried for at least six to eight years and when he told me there was no chance I was just imagining it all I felt as light as I never have before. It was also awkward crying in front of him but I’m sure I wasn’t the first patient to do that and certainly not his last either.
Anyway…he couldn’t tell me what exactly was wrong with me. For that he got me another appointment with another good shrink. And now is the time to make a guess when I got it =D …….3…..2…..1….. TWO MONTHS LATER! Again. Patience is indeed a virtue. She’s gonna talk to me for a looong time and make notes and probably even test out my brain to see if it works properly. I’ll be as stressed out as I was with the first appointment – I know that for sure but at least I got what I wanted. Kind of. The Diagnose is there. Only verbally but hey, sometimes it is enough to have someone listen to you for a few minutes, just to hear it’s okay, you’re not stupid, it’s not your fault and you are very brave for getting that far.
He didn’t say it with these exact words but that’s what I interpreted. After all he got me some medication to help me start the day easier, to get more productive and tell me I shouldn’t have waited this long for treatment. To be completely honest though, I feel good enough to not take any medication right now. I do feel stressed out a lot because of work and all but the sunshine helps me get out of bed and through the day so I might wait for the in-depth diagnose and then see what I have to do to finally feel like a normal person again. I hope this is where I can get.
I also can’t believe half a year has passed already again. It feels like yesterday when I wrote that post about the new years eve party. Kinda the same thing happened two weeks ago with a birthday party btw but I might rant about that when I have time. I’m sorry for the lack of updates and my dry and not so special writing but as I said I’m pretty stressed out about work. I’ll get to that later. Just wanted to give you my diagnose since that was what I promised.
Until the next update, take good care!
– signed A
As promised, I made a huge step forward. Finally I seeked help, tough it didn’t turn out to be as easy as I thought it would be. The doctor I was originally supposed to call only had appointments left in July when I called in April. Yeah, you read right. July. Can you believe that? I am fine right now but think of someone who desperately needs help. There’s no way they could wait for three months just to get a diagnose or something. But whatever, of course I wanted to make use of my little energy push so I got another referral before I even got the chance to wait around for another week and managed to get an appointment in the first week of June.
I feel accomplished now and excited for it but I also am a bit..anxious. Which is really weird, don’t you think? All the time I wanted to seek help and now that I finally get it I am scared of it? I got to the bottom line of my thoughts earlier last week and I feel kinda shocked about catching myself hoping to be mentally ill. Don’t get me wrong here! I would love(!!) to just feel happy and be normal again, like the cute, energetic child I used to be before all this sh*t started, but getting no diagnose would mean it was all in my head. And that it was crazy and weird for me to think, that I was ill. Even worse – it would mean all the time I felt bad and lazy and idiotic and like a loser I actually WAS lazy and idiotic and a loser. It would mean that I’m back to square one and that it really is my fault.
I’m really scared of that. So scared that I’d rather wish to be ill than perfectly okay in my head. Doesn’t that sound alarming? But I don’t want to be a loser. I don’t want to find out I was running in the wrong direction all this time and I could have turned around everything all alone but somehow I got caught up in this theory that I’m in fact ill and need help to get better just to have an excuse of letting myself go so easily and not changing on my own. To just follow the simple route. I am no one to take the simple route only because it’s the easier way. I also know that I don’t ever want to feel as bad and hopeless as I felt this winter season and that what I felt (or rather not felt) WAS real. It’s just now that the summer is here and the next wave of depression seems to give me a little pause I hope the diagnose is gonna be accurate.
I always catch myself thinking about how I should explain what it felt like to be me for the last ten years of my life. How hard it was and how much I wanted to be done with all this and why but then I stop myself and think: It’s not your duty to make the doctor believe you or put words in his mouth that you read online somwhere. HE is the doctor. He should know what to ask so he can get an accurate picture of how bad it really is, even though right now I feel a little better. He should know depression comes in waves. And I only need to remember what a horror those few months were for me and tell him when he asks about it.
I told no one about my appointment. Don’t know what I’ll tell my parents where I am. Probably out with some friend or something… I want to get the facts straight just in case it really happened all in my head. I know that’s not true. I know how being depressed feels like. I know I am in the middle of it. I just really hope my doctor will know just as good as I do after our talk.
In two weeks I’ll be back with my diagnose and hopefully a way out of my situation. When I get better I hope I’ll finally be able to write about some random things on here too. The blog really needs to be lightened up a bit. But first things first. Please wish me the best of luck.
Until then…take care!
– signed A
PS: Oh and in case you’re wondering…my eyes are fine! I don’t need glasses anymore and I enjoy my new freedom a lot =)
So I finally did it.
No, I didn’t call someone. Not yet. But(!) I managed to tell my doctor I might need to get a diagnose and he gave me a referral to a specialist whom I – once again – need to call. Yeah I know… But hey! This time I only have four weeks to do it, since my referral is dated. I just want to do it when nobody’s home. Tomorrow most likely.
I’ll get an appointment and keep telling myself after this appointment everything is gonna be alright. I know it will not. Stuff doesn’t just magically disappear once you’ve got to talk about it but I’m still sure the diagnose is at least gonna help me fix my remorse somehow.
Also I felt better the last few days. A little more energized – far from what I want to feel but I managed to write a little, meet up with friends, to get out more AND to finally getting my eyes lasered. I was stuck with contacts an glasses for such a long time now, I completely forgot how good it feels to be able to read EVERYTHING with my own eyes. Almost two weeks have passed now since I had the operation and it seemed to have worked pretty good. I look damn awful without glasses and no makeup on though. Makes me wonder if it was worth the money X) Just kidding, I know it was.
Maybe that’s the exact reason I feel a little better. Because I felt like a huge weight has been lifted off me – regardless on how ugly I feel without glasses, because duh I have never seen my reflection without it cearly in the mirror – and something actually worked in my life. Something happened and it was good and I was the one setting it up.I DID something, mostly on my own. (with the help of my mum who needed to pick me up afterwards and the doctors and stuff but who cares? It was my wish.) Also people cared. They wanted to know how I was, how the procedure felt, how I felt now. People cared. It’s a nice feeling. Having something to talk about, knowing somebody is interested. I know my head is seeing ghosts, that people cared about me before too. And I could see that, it was just not that obvious and sometimes obvious things are the ones that satisfy you the most.
I promise to keep you guys updated. Especially after the call tomorrow and the diagnose and stuff… I wanted to write sooner anyway but I couldn’t because my eyes were sore. Feeling better now though =) Today life is beautiful. I wonder if I just couldn’t see it before.
Promise to update soon, until then take good care!
– signed A