CoffeeTattoos

I talked to a friend last night, and he got me thinking about a few things.

No, I don’t see a therapist anymore. There were financial issues on my part, and I couldn’t exactly ask my parents to pay for it – my dad doesn’t see a point in it. He doesn’t think it helps anything. Although, going back to see someone would probably be a good idea, along with possibly giving medication another try. The only thing is, I don’t want to go back and see the same woman that I saw before. While I’m not saying that she isn’t good at what she does, not by any means, I just don’t think that she was really the right person for me to talk to. And that’s probably something I really should’ve thought about back then.

My issue with medications is that it’s basically a huge process of trial and error. Try one medication for depression, maybe mixed with another for anxiety, for a month or more to see if it works for you. If it doesn’t, you switch to another medication and repeat. I just don’t like that idea; I guess there’s something about there being no “right way” to treat it that bothers me. Everyone has to find the right medicinal “cocktail” for them.

But with the possible situation that I’m in, meaning if I’m selected to participate, I would be going back to those things. I would be seeing a therapist and taking medication(s) again. But this time it would be paid for by someone other than me or my family. Maybe that would be something that kept me going on that road to figuring out what truly does make a difference and work for me. I don’t know that for a fact though.

I gave up on therapy and meds before due to an inability to afford them, and fear of my dad finding out about everything and potentially using it against me. But I also don’t think I was all that invested in really trying to get better at that point. I had gotten the diagnoses and was still kind of trying to adjust to the fact that I’m now going to deal with mental health issues for the rest of my life. Looking back, it seems like I was just going through the motions that I thought I was supposed to because that’s what everyone else does when they’re in the same situation I am.

You’re probably wondering why my dad would use it against me.
Well, he doesn’t understand what mental illness is like because he’s never experienced it himself. It’s not really something that you can accurately explain and have the other person understand if they’ve never been in a similar position. I wasn’t ready to deal with his reaction so I never really told him. He knew I was taking medication for something, but I never told him what it was for and he never bothered to ask.

My friend also asked me if I remember the last time I was depressed or dealing with anxiety, or had a panic attack. I don’t. And I guess, in a way, that’s a good thing. But I kind of felt bad for not really having an answer for them.

The last thing he asked me was if I was slipping back to how I was before or if I’ve kind of leveled out, in regards to my depression. It took some thinking for me to be able to answer. I know what my depression looks like now, so it’s easier for me to see what’s happening and try to do something about it. But I do still have times where I slip back and things are like they used to be – I pull away from people, isolate myself, sleep whenever I feel like it. But those times aren’t as dominant as they used to be before.