Depression, Boxes, and Revelation
I don't talk about my depression much. I've been very good at putting on a Cinderella smile and making everything appear completely normal. Until lately, since my family doctor decided to jack with my depression medication and change a few things. At first I was okay, but then the panic attacks started. I got in touch with my actual psychiatrist and she make a few more adjustments to my meds to help take care of the anxiety. I haven't have another panic attack - thank God - but now I'm a zombie who cries... a lot. I hate crying. The psychiatrist decided I needed to add "talk therapy" to the regimen. Ever since my dad was diagnosed with rapid progressive Multiple Sclerosis when I was 10 years old, I've been in and out of psychotherapy. Clearly at this point in my life if I still have to do the therapy thing I know it isn't going to work. It hasn't for the last 27 years, why would it now? But I went....