I've been on a downswing lately. Nothing too major: just difficulty sleeping, eating, smiling, and tolerating the husband and children. It could be a response to being back in the thick of things after having a few days to myself. According to the pshrink it could be a result of lowering the depakote. Who knew - it stops you being depressed as well as manic - clever stuff. It's all change on the drug front now - switching to some other mood stabiliser that has the delightful side-effect of giving 25% of users a horrible skin rash. Not to be a pessimist, but you just know I will be in that 25%, right? So, the hair will grow back (curly, apparently) but I will look like a pizza-faced teenager. Cool.
I went to see a new therapist this week. He replaces the previous one who spent pretty much every session talking about her kids, and which school they went to, and how generally fantastic she was with all her other patients. And for this I was paying her? The new guy most certainly is not in the chatty category. Excellent. He doesn't even seem to want to know what has been going on in my life. I was delighted because, for me, the worst part about starting with a new therapist is having to begin at the beginning.
The other good thing about him was that he seemed to have me sussed within about ten minutes, putting into words all those amorphous feelings about my depression that have been floating around for so long. The guilt, the high expectations of myself, the disappointment. It seems that my depression stems largely from having my autonomy curtailed. I couldn't agree more. Given half the chance I would run for the hills and stay there for a long time. Well, probably the beach actually. Unfortunately (or not) there are three small people that persist in calling me mum, and I am actually quite fond of them. Bollocks - I really should have considered this reproduction thing more carefully.
No comments:
Post a Comment