I have today returned to see my doctor.
I have been increasingly 'lost' over the last few weeks again and a friend made me promise I would seek help if I needed it. At a tremendously low point around 10 days ago I actually sat and wrote to down my feelings. Its a bit like calling out the engineer to an errant home appliance, it plays up for weeks and as soon as you get the man in over-alls through your door it works to perfection!
Well I sometimes feel a little the same. I am so used to painting on the brave face, the smile, putting up the front, the happy facade, that when I get to the surgery to attend the appointment I made 4 days ago when I was a blithering wreck in continual tears and unable to function, I smile serenely and tell him I am fine (go figure!) or I call and cancel as I feel I am wasting his time........ I can't get the words out, and he chats to me and gives me encouragement and positive thoughts and I leave (smiling- because thats what I do) and at the time think its all ok.
So he sat and read the A4 word document I had printed off this morning and I sat and wept silent tears because I knew what I had written down to him. My 10 minute appointment lasted 40 minutes (if you were the lady with the baby in the pram who was waiting to see him after me I am so sorry!) and we talked and I sobbed and we talked some more.
I am back on anti-depressants, he wants to see me again in 3 weeks and we will talk some more and he is going to refer me to see a 'new' counsellor who attends the surgery. I like my doctor, he (quite unprofessionally really) let me hug him when I left, but he is a good doctor and he explains how things work and why he has given you certain drugs and advise. He is not a doctor who scribbles out prescriptions without making eye contact with you, I like him and trust him. But I know that he can't make me better, that a lot of that has to come from me.
So here I am........so many months down the line...still trying to make some sense of it all.....