Depression Hurts, Part 8

Author Name Withheld~

Walking into a psychiatrist’s office is slightly un-nerving.  “Those” places are for crazy people, right?  There is a definite stigma associated with receiving mental help and we were no exception in feeling this.  As we walked down the hall towards the clinic office I found myself looking around to see if anybody would see us walking in.  Heaven forbid!  Much to our relief the hall was empty and we were able to slip in, undetected.  Whew, crisis averted!  Husband filled out the paper work and provided the insurance info (all on his own I might add) and we found ourselves a seat while waiting for the big moment.  Finally, “Mr. Husband, we will see you now” was announced by the office assistant.  The other patients waiting in the lobby looked us up and down, trying to figure out what our problem was and why we were there.  I suggested he act crazy and they would stop staring.  In reality, we were all probably in the same boat, normal people just trying to work out the kinks.

We were ushered into a tidy but smallish room and asked to make ourselves comfortable.  We had barley been seated when our mental health professional entered the room and introduced herself to us.  As it turns out, husband had previously attended high school with her and I became instantly nervous that this would not go well because he would be afraid to open up to her.  Surprisingly, he was very relaxed.  She was a cheerful person, very non-threatening and proceeded to ask Husband a series of questions.  I was pleased and found I liked her very much.  She was encouraging and supportive and gave some much needed reassurance!  She did not feel he was a danger to himself.  And with this we felt calm.   She asked how his meds were working for him, he replied, “not so well”.  She suggested we make a change and we liked this.  He was to switch gradually over a designated period of time and then switch over completely to the new stuff.  At the end of the appointment we left.  Again we proceeded… day by day, week by week and slowly, life began to not suck so much.

We returned for a follow-up visit a month later and were able to report that the depression was much better.  Let the heavens open and the angels sing!  With this visit, she increased his dose to target the anxiety.  We left and again returned in one month.  This time with even better results…his anxiety was down too!  We continued our weekly therapy and our monthly psych visits for the next 6 months and life improved.  Husband was getting better and we were getting into a healthy pattern, finally.   Life continued to not suck so much.

I began to leave little daily notes of encouragement for Husband to find, usually placing them on the kitchen counter, alongside the happy pills.  I wanted them to be one of the first things he saw in the morning, hopefully to give him an extra boost for the day.  Sometimes they were a love note expressing my lust for him, other times a scripture or quote I had found.  I did this for quite some time.  Husband collected these cards and kept them with him so when he was feeling down he could grab the stack and flip through them as needed.  It wasn’t uncommon for Husband to have difficulty about mid-day, while at work.  On occasion he would hide in the bathroom and cry, afraid to come out and face reality, a deep wave of sadness overcoming him.  He shared with me that the note cards gave him encouragement and were a lifeline for him.  They gave him strength to draw upon.  They were uplifting for me as well.

Surprisingly, through all we had been through, our respective families knew relatively little about our personal battle.  Certain family members knew more than others but most remained in blissful naivety.  My mom asked me why I never shared much of our situation.  To this I replied that I didn’t want to burden others with such depressing details.  Who wants to sit and listen to something, so depressing?  It was rather unpleasant to live it and I was pretty sure it would be rather unpleasant to hear it.   I was determined not to be a Debbie Downer!  Besides, in my mind, what would they have done anyway?  Most of my immediate family lived miles away and everyone had their own problems to be occupied with.

I often turn to the scriptures and prayer for comfort and guidance.  Equally as often I turn to nature, Gods creations, to find comfort and inspiration. The earth is a living testament of the love our Father has for us, which he has provided for our benefit and well being.  Sometimes all I need is to surround myself in its beauty, His beauty, to feel refreshed and ready to start anew.

I love the sound of rain, tap tapping atop the leaves and the sweet smell of the ocean breeze.  I find it immensely therapeutic tending to flowers and sinking my fingers deep into fresh, cool, potting soil.  I find joy in watching horses play in the field, they turn to race along the fence, tails proudly flagging behind them, heads held noble and high, gentle horsey snorts muffled in the cool morning air.  I love fuzzy Cavalier puppies romping in the grass, they roll over, exposing fat delicious puppy tummies, freckled and soft, begging to be rubbed and loved upon.  I love walking through the forest along mossy trails, the soft light filtering through the rich, leafy canopy above, rays from heaven wafting down.  I enjoy walking along the beach when the tide has receded far into the sea, exposing miles of coastline for my exploratory enjoyment.  My favorite time of day is just before bedtime when I am safely cuddled up against my husband for pillow talk, the puppy snoring softly beside us.  Husband will lovingly twirl at my hair as I am about to blissfully pass into a deep sleep, the kids safely tucked into their respective rooms, innocently unaware of the grown-up worries that plague their parents.

We knew, even though Husband was healing that we would need to change jobs if we wanted to continue to improve.  We were barely hanging on.  Against all odds, we spotted a position not too far from where we had previously lived.  Hopefully we could land it!  We would be sad to leave family, again, but thrilled for our family and the opportunity this job presented.  Potential was there for everybody to come out a winner.  We crossed our fingers and hoped that this was what we were supposed to do.  We trusted in the Lord, He had been refining us in the fire for something much greater than we could have imagined.

Follow this series on Thursdays of each week (read previous parts 1-7 here).

Photo Credit:  “Horses Playing” by Big Grey Mare and “Rose Raindrops” by Lisa Yallamas