that first step
So now I've taken that first step and there's no taking it back now. Today I went to the doctor and admitted what I'd known for so long, that no one else knew at all. Well that no one else knew until some weird twist of fate caused me to screw up and break a friendship and then two worlds collided and suddenly I was lost because people knew what I'd been hiding for so long. I could have sat and taken this for so much longer, but I chose not to. I chose to go to the doctor, mostly because I know all those thoughts are going to beat down my inability to act one day and then one day I will hurt myself, and probably really seriously too (I'm an all or nothing type of girl).
I've had a weird day. I was so nervous. I feel much better after going. I couldn't concentrate this morning. I watched some Smallville on Mark's computer. I debated about washing up and studying, but in the end I didn't feel like it. I downloaded my OpenDiary account to a text file, and it was 435 pages long! I wanted to see how much I'd written, and I want to read over the last five months (yes that's all!) and see how my mood has been. I'm in the process of going over LiveJournal entries and retagging them, but it's taking too long. I might just sit and read all at once (well in a few sittings). The waiting room at the doctor's was empty. My appointment time was 1pm, so I presumed that the other doctors were at lunch and that's why there was no one there. I didn't have to wait long. I wanted to use the opportunity of sitting in a waiting room as what I'd be watching and writing about for my sociology homework, but it's a good thing I decided against taking a pen and paper because there was no one there!
It took a bit of guts to actually say that I thought I was depressed out loud. I got the other stuff out of the way, like asking for a script for my pill, and telling her that my jaw popped. She said it was probably just because the tendons were a little loose, and to be careful that it didn't not go right one time it popped out. And then I just said it. "I think I'm depressed". She asked why, I said I haven't been happy for a while. She asked a few questions and I answered. She gave me a booklet with information about depression (which I read and already knew). I made a longer appointment for the Tuesday after next (9-8-08). It was the next available long consultation, and it's good because it's Tuesday in two weeks so I won't have to take time off work. She gave me a little questionairre thing that I've already filled out describing possible scenarios over the last week (such as "I found it difficult to relax" and "I felt that life wasn't worthwhile" to which you had to assign a number relating to how often that has occured). She sent me for a blood test (which I went and had already) to check my cell count to see if I was aneamic, and to rule out a physical condition that could impact my mood. She asked if I thought the pill had anything to do with the way I've been feeling. I don't know. It could. I've been on the pill for four years, but I've also felt like this for as long as I can remember. I can remember feeling screwed up before I was on the pill. I remember sitting at school in year nine scratching at my wrist with a safety pin in the office toilets.
I haven't told Mum about any of this. I needed an excuse to keep her medicare card after my appointment today to go for the blood test, and I think Mum will get suspicious when I ask for it again in two weeks. I don't know why I don't want to tell her. We're just not that close. That time in year nine when I was upset and in trouble at school (I'd written in a letter book to a girl I'm no longer friends with that I was having a tough time and thoughts of hurting myself and suicide had crept up on me) she was told, because that's what has to be done. She basically told me I was stupid. "How could anyone so young think that they had nothing to live for when their whole life is ahead of them?" Like she didn't get it. I think she does get it. Growing up I've seen hints that she is herself depressed. I'm not sure, and I'm not going to ask her. Maybe she told me I was stupid because she understood and didn't want me to feel that way. Well whatever, it didn't work. The whole telling me I'm stupid thing has stuck with me, so while I know it's not stupid and that how I feel is a real problem, I'm not about to tell her because she'll still make me feel stupid. I'm going to medicare to get my own medicare card (branched off hers because I'm still under 21), but I won't have it in two weeks. Maybe I'll just tell her that I've got a cold and need a certificate for work. Or something.
I also did some research before I went. I've had a few terms tossed around at me while I've been writing about how I felt. Someone said I could have bipolar disorder, but I doubt that. Even more so after I've read more about it. I go down, but I don't come back up, and I definately don't feel euphoric or manic. I go from down to somewhere around normal. A few weeks ago I looked up the DSM-IV diagnosis for a major depressive disorder, and you have to experience five of the criteria in any two week period, and I don't. Maybe I'll hit three or four. Sometimes I am horribly depressed and I feel worthless, but depressed isn't my main mood. When I'm not depressed, I guess the word of choice might be "over all dissatisfied". I'm not suicidal at all, because I know how much hurting myself will hurt other people. I guess I just think I'm not sad enough to be suffering from a major depressive disorder.
Someone at one point mentioned dysthymia, which I looked up today and I think it fits me very well. Dysthymia is a milder, more chronic form of depression. Of all the sites I looked at there were six common diagnostic criteria, and I fit every single one of them. "While depressed, a person experiences two or more of the following; either overeating or lack of appetite, sleeping too much or too little or having trouble sleeping, fatigue/loss of energy, poor self esteem, difficulty concentrating or making a decision, or, feeling hopeless." Today I've eaten a chocolate crackle and four lollie snakes. Apart from the days that I work I hardly eat anything. I eat at work because I'm working, and I get scheduled eating time. I definately have trouble sleeping and staying awake. I'm always tired and hardly ever have energy. I don't usually suffer from poor self esteem, but I do have bouts where I think everyone hates me and the world is out to get me. I do have difficulty concentrating. Solataire is my best friend at the moment. I feel hopeless more than I experience low self esteem, but again, not all of the time.
My doctor talked about "treatment" options. I could go to counselling or take medication or both, whichever suited. I dont' like talking. I don't want to talk. I talk to myself when I blog. I seriously can sit here and rationalise things from two different perspectives at the same time. I could act as my own counsellor. Mark mentioned the other day that my issues might stem from my childhood and my family issues, but I've never really had a conscious problem with any of that. I got over it. I got used to it. I never knew any other family situation, so it didn't matter. There was no life change, like when people get divorced and drag kids between homes. I just never had a father, and it never bothered me. I got into counselling in highschool (year eight? year nine?) because I'd heard lots of stories about him and wrote it all out and gave it to friends to read. I went to that Youth Insearch thing based on the fact that I come from a broken family, but coming from a broken family has never really bothered me. I'm fine with the fact. Maybe who I am and why I'm depressed now has stemmed from that, but now it's grown legs and is walking by itself. I don't want to talk about my family and how not having a father may have impacted who I am, because there's nothing to say. It wasn't some big life tragedy that seriously altered my mood. I wasn't abandoned. I wasn't raped. I wasn't abused. I wasn't neglected. I was just left, and I'm fine with that.
I don't really want to go to counselling. In my view, there are two types of depression. People can be depressed from something that has happened to them, like the people who are raped or abused or have had other people die or suicide. People can also be depressed because they just are. It's taken a while for my mind to rationalise the fact that instead of being sad, I might actually be physically sick. I've known forever that depression can be caused by chemical imbalances in the brain, but I've fought with myself alot over having nothing to be depressed about. Because I see myself has not having any outside cues to becoming depressed, I must be physically sick and therefore counselling probably won't do much for me. Nothing about my life has been so simple, but nothing has been hard enough to warrant depression. I've been hated. I've been left. I've been poor. I've fought with everyone I know. I've known people who have been suicidal. I have harmed myself. I have been in bad places at school. None of that is comparable to being depressed for some other reason, such as being raped or abused. I would prefer to take medication. Probably because I've convinced myself that I'm actually sick more than just being sad about something. I don't want to go to counselling because I don't like talking. I can talk to myself. Medication is clean and simple. It's not really my choice, now I have to wait to see what my blood says about me and what happens at my appointment in two weeks time.
If I thought waiting for this appointment was bad enough then it's going to be harder to wait for the next one. I get the results from my blood test mailed to me, but I won't really understand them. They'll be out of context by themselves anyway. My next appointment will be big. Lots of talking and deciding who I am and what's wrong with me and where to go from there. I'll just do what I did this time, try not to think about it until the actual day. God knows I have that much study to get done by that time (my first assessment is due five days before my next appointment) and I've started my photography diary so I want to do that and get most of it done soon or I won't do it. I've got heaps to get done, and I'm working a lot so I guess I shouldn't really have to think about it.