I’ve written a lot about going to therapy. I spent two years seeing a therapist that kept me from going to jail, rehab or both.
Those posts are: Going to Therapy: Setting Goals and Smashing Them
Well, it’s time for another round.
I’ve been struggling with writer’s block because I’ve been depressed and anxious. It’s hard to write when you don’t feel like it’s any good.
Motivation is probably my biggest issue- I’d stay in bed all day reading or watching TV if I had the chance. Instead, I drag myself to work for 5 hours. Those hours crawl by. I’m not happy at all with my job and I’d quit tomorrow if I could.
This leads me to my career in general- I don’t know what’s next and that just creates more anxiety. I worry about the kids and my marriage.
These thoughts snowball and are hard to stop.
I really struggled with the idea. I felt like I failed. I decided on a different therapist because I couldn’t face my former one. It just wouldn’t be the same.
I even got into a psychiatric nurse practitioner. She’s great and I started an anti-depressant. I can’t say yet if it’s helping but I sure hope it does.
She asked me if I had cravings for a drink.
Until then, I hadn’t even thought about it.
Sometimes when I’m stressed, sad or both, I’ll think “I could really use a drink.” I guess I wasn’t paying attention. Part of why I went back to therapy is because I don’t want to relapse. I’m not sure how I’d come back from it.
One of the promises I made to myself when Jake died was to finish the work he started. Even thinking I didn’t do so broke me. As Sara put it, sometimes you need a boost. Plus Jake would be angry at me for not going back because he wanted me to be happy.
As usual, Sara was right.
I felt like I was letting everyone down because for the most part, I’m okay. I got myself back together. Going back means I wobbled on my path.
I talked to Matthew and my closest friends about it and all of them were supportive. If you don’t have friends like these, you need new ones. Matthew hopes it helps because he noticed me pulling away from him.
I cried. I cried a lot. My friends’ support means a lot more to me than they realize. They really do care. I’m not the burden that I thought I was.
That’s the depression talking. It tells me that I should be doing more professionally and that I’m a terrible mom and wife.
If you’ve been depressed, you know what I mean. There’s that voice in the back of your mind telling you things that are hard to process.
I went to my first therapy session with my new therapist last week and she’s very nice. I’ll be there once a week for a while and that’s okay. I have to remind myself of this when I start thinking the bad things.
One day at a time, right?