Monday, March 18, 2013
I've noticed today after leaving the therapist's office that I had a genuine smile on m face. And it felt so good to experience its return again.
The occasional depression I'd experienced previously -- the "Blues" -- had never come close to what I'd climbed out of recently. As much as I'd written like a mad dervish in my journals, I was still curled in a protective fetal position staring at the wall, reaching out for my father. I cried and cried until I though I would've been dried up by then.
After going over the notes I penned, which included highlighted passages I make a point to mark, I realized I could not "do it alone".
I knew I had to contact a therapist, in spite of my frequent trips to Hospice counseling. To say my pride was bruised was an understatement. I knew (logically) I was doing all the right things, but my emotional state was chaotic.
After close scrutiny from a psychiatrist, she assured my darkness is treatable -- praise God! And as ambivalent as I was about the amount of anti-depressants I had to go on, I was comforted to learn this was a short term therapy.
What make this trial bearable is the collective support of my family and friends. They also have seen vast improvement over the last few weeks. To find joy in my previous activities again is awesome!
My grief is bearable, but my openness for the days to come excite me. I wake up with a prayer Thanksgiving and enjoy more light in my moments instead of the darkness which had cloaked me for so long.