I'm considering therapy. I realize I probably need it, but I rather, like Meredith in the last few episode's of Grey's Anatomy (Season 4), defiantly declare, "I don't need therapy!"
I thought I didn't have anything to talk about, but apparently I do.
You see, I was diagnosed with Postpartum Depression (PPD) three weeks after our daughter, Lillian was born. Alfred, the ever loving piece of my heart, contacted his doctor, got me in to see her (as I did not have a primary care physician at the time), she asked me a few basic questions, then scribbled a prescription for Zoloft. I was absolutely adamant about not wanting to take the medication, so I just didn't. I'm now at 4 months postpartum with good days and bad days. Unfortunately the bad days have become worse and last longer. I felt numb, I just didn't care. Yeah, I could go through the emotions, but really, I didn't care. Last night, I figured out where it stemmed from.
I was depressed pretty much the entire pregnancy. It wasn't the joyous occasion it should have been. I could not revel in it. I could not rejoice. When people exclaimed, "Congratulations" I'd feel the smile on my lips, stretched and wooden, as I pronounced the words I knew was polite to say, "Thank you." But did I really deserve the admiration? I didn't feel like I did.
The pregnancy wasn't planned. It was that silly little 1% of the 99% effective birth control pills at the wrong time. It was born in a field abundant with stress and negativity and for sometime it did not get better. Emotionally, it was always a struggle because I felt guilty. I felt as if I did something wrong by deciding to keep the baby. I felt ashamed. I was hurt for so long, I was very, very hurt but felt it was a proper penance for the pain I had caused in the past so perhaps I deserved it after all.
And that is just the overview of why I probably need therapy. So, I stare at the number on my desk. I've picked up the phone twice only to place it back into its holder, changing my mind. I don't need therapy, but, perhaps, just maybe, I do.
2 comments:
I say suck it up and go. Be like Mer in the last few eppis of GA since you pointed it out :p Don't you want to feel better and be able to enjoy your daughters firsts and all the happiness that comes with it? Do you want to look back on your daughters early years the same way you are looking back on your pregnancy? I love you tons and hope you can get the courage to dial the number and go to therapy. Everyone needs therapy in this day and age :p You're not alone and I'm here for whatever you need!!! <3
Rachel aka DirtySexyMunkie
Yeah, seriously, I'm casting my vote for going, too.
You maybe won't learn anything new about yourself and will probably see through everything the therapist is trying to do, just like I did ;), but honestly, it helps to be able to bitch at, argue with and be a general asshat to someone who, after it's all done, you've gotten some much-needed catharsis and can gradually reach a better frame of mind.
Depression and aggression are sisters and if you can get one out of your system, the other usually starts following.
Barring that, you could always tease the poor bastard by nympheting it, you saucy wench ;)
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