Me and Jose

So I became pretty good friends last night with Jose.  Jose Cuarvo that is.  (Did I spell that right?)  4th of July.  J's family came over.  His best-friend-might-as-well-be-a-brother came over with his wife.  And some limes.  So we drank.  And drank.  And then, when we were thirsty, we drank a little more.  And the thing was, they were only here for about 3 hours.  Was just supposed to be a small BBQ and then a trip to see fireworks.  Well, J took the kids, I passed out.  Nice.  *shakes head*

Today was my session with Dr. C.  And, of course, I woke up totally hungover.  Which shouldn't really be a problem, except that I saw her hungover three weeks ago, the day after Father's Day when I had too much to drink.  I showered and got dressed the best I could between bouts of extreme nausea, forced down some water and toast, and headed out.  Half-way there I get a text from Dr. C that they are painting the office and we can either meet at a local McD's or cancel.  Well, since I have already gone through so much effort, I agreed to the McD's.  Just walking in and smelling all the food made my stomach do more flips-flops then in did during all three of my pregnancies combined. 

Because we were sitting in the middle of a restaurant, I didn't want to launch into a rant about just how bad my depression is.  We joked, a little, about my hang-over, but I don't think that she was really too happy about it.  We talked a little about how my job has gone from 4 days a week to 2, and how financially that has been a challenge.  We talked a lot about J's and my relationship and how I can make some small changes to get it back to where we were.  And just as I thought I was going to be able to fly under the radar and leave without talking about depression, she asks me what was up.  I told her, in as lighthearted of a manner as I could muster.  I just said that I thought the depression was coming back, that I didn't have much of an appetite, that I was secluding in my bedroom more.  And I left it at that.  I didn't bring up the suicidal thoughts, how my mind has begun composing "good-bye" letters again, the numbness that I was feeling.  I think that if we had been sitting in her office I might have, but I couldn't let myself go there in a public place.  She gave me a few things to try and break the isolation and spend a little more time with the kids, and I agreed to try them this week.  We confirmed our date change for next week, and I left.

And now I kick myself.  Why do we do that?  Why do we have the opportunity to sit with someone who is totally focused on us and we don't use it the best that we can?  Why do we, or why do I, choose to stuff what I am thinking and feeling when I know that it will only make things worse?  Dr. C has already told me on more than one occasion that as long as I don't say that I am going to leave her office and kill myself that she will not hospitalize me.  But the fear is already ingrained.  The fear developed from past times I have trusted doctors only to be shipped off to inpatient units for weeks at a time.  The fear that telling someone what is going on in my head makes it more true somehow.  It also feels like it is my little secret, and I don't know that I want to share it.  Sounds weird, and I don't know if I am even explaining it right.

Anyway, 6 more days until I get to meet with her again, and I am hoping that by that time either the depression will be better or I will be able to be honest.  Because I know that keeping the secret will one day kill me.

Last Link of Pain

I cannot remember if I have mentioned it on here or not, but my family and I aren't speaking to each other.   It's actually been almost a year since we talked.  There was a blow-up and misunderstanding over me being hospitalized last year and it all just fell apart.  And the consequence of that is that we are now not speaking.

This weekend was Father's Day.  Kinda painful.  Like picking at a scab that has almost become full skin again, and it stings even when you are not touching it.  I miss my Dad.  He was my everything.  My biological mom left when I was 2, and even though I saw her on and off until I was 12, my Dad was the only stable adult figure for most of those years.  (Not to discount my step-mom, but that's a blog for another day.)  Anyway, my greatest fear in life was that I would loose my Dad, and it has now happened.  Only, I always thought it would be due to death, not that he is 5 miles from me and just refusing to talk and mend fences.  So I was not looking forward to the day.

I was more than happy to host J's family on Sunday, and we had a great time, but the only way that I got through it without a breakdown was because I drank.  I drank a lot.  So much that my voice sounded like Mickey Mouse and passed out about 8:30.  Thankfully, I had an appointment with Dr. C this morning and was able to process some of this.  Not a lot, I had to go to work after and didn't want to be a big ball of tears, but process enough to get through my day. 

Anyway, the last link that I have to my family is Facebook.  And seeing all the pictures that they are posting about the weekend and how much fun they had hurts.  It hurts a lot.  I miss being a part of that.  I miss the security of knowing that I had such a large extended family around.  I grew up pretty close with my cousins, and was hopefully that my kids would have had the same experience.  I am now in the debating stages of whether I should "defriend" my family so that I don't have to see the pictures or see the updates.  I was not able to verbalize this to Dr. C at our appointment, so I sent her an e-mail to ask her thoughts and opinions.  I am also going to post the question on DepressionForums.org to see what my peers say....

In other news, I made another step in the right direction today, and since I am learning to celebrate little achievements, this counts!  I talked with a co-worker about my depression and found out that she has struggled with depression herself since she was 11.  She, too, takes medication on a daily basis....OMG....it's so nice to know that there is someone in the office that I can go to if I am having a rough day who will truly understand what I am going through!  I didn't go into great detail with her about what the past 2 years have been like, but we talked meds and therapists until I had to see a student (don't you hate it when work gets in the way of the fun?).  I was already very friendly with her and I think this just makes me feel more comfortable in my new work space!  What a great way to end a bad weekend......