Wednesday, 30 March 2011

Fun in Dys"FUN"ction.

One of the other things that I really need to work on is not physical at all, although in the long run, it will have a great effect on my well-being.  Mental Health!!

What a scary word.  I'll tell you about my recent trip to the doctor.  I have been feeling really down lately.  Could be for a lot of reasons - there is absolutely no sun here right now, I quit smoking and am not always sure how to deal with things without my cigarette time out, my personal satisfaction meter is down pretty low and well it's me - that's a LOT to work on!!!

So I decide to go and talk to the doctor about feeling depressed.  It was probably one of the most uncomfortable moments of my life.  I walked to the receptionist, told her I was there for my appointment and then and went and sat in those chairs - you know those plastic, scooped chairs that no one's ass fits properly in and I think they pick the most uncomfortable chairs so that the receptionists have something to laugh about during their coffee break.  I mean you can be right on time for your appointment and you will still have to wait 20 minutes.

So there I am, slipping or slouching or scooching on the chair, waiting for the nurse to come and get me.  I pick up a magazine and it's actually a good one, some gossip mag not one of those "look at all your unhealthiness" magazines they like to leave out on the table.  And of course, right when I am getting into a story, they call my name.  Of course they do.  

I get up and go back with the nurse - she really is wonderful and we make small talk on the way to the room.  We walk in, she puts my file in the holder on the door and does the usual "the Doctor will be right with you" and leaves.  Now I have a decision to make.  Sit in another one of those scooped chairs, or hop up on the paper covered (what is that thing??) bed, table???  If I sit in the chair I am going to end up sliding again and if I hop up on the paper, I am going to crackle every time I move and my legs are going to be hanging, swinging like I am a little kid.

So I opt for the chair again.  And I sit, wishing that I had brought the magazine with me.  Because even when they take you back to the room you know you are going to be waiting for another 15 minutes at least.  And during that time, all I can think about is how I am being an idiot.  He doesn't want to hear about how I am feeling depressed.  He is just going to look at me as some hysterical woman who can't control her emotions.  My inside voice keeps repeating these things and I have now convinced myself that if he doesn't walk through the door in 30 seconds I am just going to get up and leave.  I think I might even James Bond it past the reception desk and not say a word.  And so I start planning my escape when - knock.  Argh he is here.  So I quickly convince myself he is like a gynecologist.  I don't need to be embarrassed.  I mean...seen one seen em all.  In his case it would be heard one, heard em all.

I worked for the Mental Health Board.  I have a degree in Social Work.  I KNOW the stigma attached with mental illness - heck, even the word illness portrays the wrong image.  And I also know how many people don't seek help BECAUSE of that stigma.  I am not stupid but at that moment I want to bolt out of the room.  I almost think I would have been more comfortable telling him I thought I had contracted some sexually transmitted disease than dropping my guard, being vulnerable and asking for help.  (I also have a huge problem with this which I will discuss some other time).

Well I stammer and stutter and get through everything that I am going through, how I am feeling and he pats me on the shoulder and says "That seems like a lot for one person to handle."  And I burst into tears.

I am now taking Welbutrin - 100 mg twice a day and it seems to be helping.  I certainly don't have such racing thoughts anymore.  I have some heavy decisions to make and I want to make sure that I making them in a stable and healthy way with the thought they deserve.

I struggled for a while.  Changing diet, exercising, changing my routine, all the things they tell you to do when you are down and nothing was helping.  I guess my point is, if you are struggling go see someone, get some help whether it be medicinal or therapeutic or even if you have to be referred somewhere else.  I consider myself pretty intelligent but it was pretty dumb of me to wait as long as I did because of my own fears. (Another one of those things I have a problem with that will be discussed at a later date).

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