I wasn’t sure I wanted to start therapy again. I didn’t want to, but deep down inside I knew that I needed to talk to someone. I felt down and low, like I couldn’t pull myself up anymore.
Getting up seemed like a chore and I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to get up and do anything but lie in bed all day.
When I did finally snap out of my depression for the time that I did. I knew that I needed to do something more than hope to not go into another depressed state.
I called the counseling center that my church had. I made an appointment to see a new therapist.
My old therapist, a nice woman that I had seen for for more than a year, didn’t do much to help me. She listened to me, but that was about it. I kept going to her because I had to. The psychiatrist expected me to still see my therapist as long as I was taking my medicine.
Once I decided to stop taking my medicine, I not longer wanted to go to therapy. I didn’t want to sit in a room for almost an hour to talk about nothing.
I was fine for while, but I couldn’t handle the work life and the stress. I didn’t know how to handle it and I couldn’t.
So I’m starting therapy again with a person I hope can help with with my depression. I don’t want to. I refuse to go back on medicine again. It really don’t do much for me in the first place. It did make me sleepy and I gained a ton of weight and that didn’t help anything.
I want to have a more open mind about therapy this time around. I really want this to be my last go around because I’m actually tired to telling all my business and feeling venerable every single time. It’s emotionally draining.
But I’m going to do it, hopefully it doesn’t take year like last time.