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 =)