So my oldest son, Braden (13) had never heard the term "head shrinker" before and when he saw the note I wrote myself reminding me of my first appointment with a mental health counselor, he thought I was having plastic surgery.
I have not seen a counselor since my diagnosis 5 1/2 years ago, though I have struggled with depression off and on all my life. Lately, and by lately I mean since I quit working a year and a half ago, I have been struggling with it again.
For those who suffer with depression or are close to someone who does, I don't have to tell you what an insidious monster it is (hey, kind of like scleroderma!) Social isolation, lack of motivation, prolonged sadness, apathy and hopelessness take over and on a good day, you feel like an extension of the couch you lie on. When you DO care about anything, the feeling is guilt for not being, doing, accomplishing what you think you should. And then more sadness for being AWOL on your kids, and other loved ones and feeling like you are losing/wasting precious time, precious life.
All the things you once loved doing are now chores and all the chores you once hated doing are absolute impossibilities. Daily, hourly weeping feels good because at least you are feeling something. However, it does sometimes get in the way when you are pumping gas and you start bawling for no apparent reason. The last thing you want is complete strangers asking what is wrong and if you are okay.
So, I am seeing a head shrinker now and if she really could shrink my head that would be great because between my weight gain and the prednisone, I am pretty much hating my chipmunk face.
She, we'll call her Deloris, gives me homework assignments. The first week's assignments were geared towards getting back to doing the things I love and reducing stress. So #1. Write. Just keep writing. Even if it's just a line or two just write. #2. Let my boys work out some of their squabbles (nice word for it) with each other, on their own. #3. I don't remember #3 but hey! 2 out of 3 ain't bad!
At today's appointment I cried about feeling guilty and like a loser when my sister comes over to do her laundry and then always cleans my house when she's here. So, we are working on getting rid of the guilt. My assignment: Repeat, "I have an illness, I AM NOT THE illness." whenever I start to feel like a worthless loser. However, I cannot let myself use scleroderma all the time for my lameness.
Finding balance is hard.