The first time I saw a therapist was because I was deeply clinically depressed. I was in my early thirties and could hardly function. It was only because of my two young children that I forced myself to get up in the morning and take care of them. I ended up separating from my husband and eventually divorcing him. But, I was still depressed. Now on my own with shared custody of the kids life became better and worse at the same time.
When a person is depressed, it is hard to accomplish anything. I had stayed at home with my kids to rear them and my husband was the breadwinner. After leaving him, I got a job as a receptionist and because I shown myself to be smart and capable, "other duties as assigned" became the norm as more and more work became a part of my responsibilities. I vividly remember sitting at the typewriter messing up an address on an envelope and my anger exploding. I could no longer deny that I really wasn't doing okay.
I found an LSMW that was part of a Christian organization that charged the hourly fee on a sliding scale. My charge for each visit was $5. That should give you an idea of why my salary was making it hard to make ends meet. I was reassured that religion was not a part of the therapy so I made my first appointment.
I found my way to the church and Elaine's office. I knocked on the door and a short old lady opened the door, smiled, and asked me to come in. This woman looked like my grandmother. How the hell was she supposed to help me? She ended up being probably the wisest woman I have ever known.
She said that I needed to see her twice a week and then as time went on we could discuss tapering off to once a week and then eventually I wouldn't need to see her at all. I had no experience with this type of thing so I didn't understand that this meant I was in a serious state. I agreed to it only thinking about how the $10 a week would impact my finances.
After a few sessions she suggested I go on an antidepressant. I balked. I can do this. I only need to figure it out. My brain power alone can do this. Elaine persisted and kept pointing out how the feelings I was expressing and the moments in my life that I shared with her all pointed to me needing to take medication. Plus, if I was able to figure this out why hadn't I already done it?
One very difficult afternoon I finally had to stop denying my need and accept her advice when I saw an image of myself in my head. I was at the edge of a precipice. It was very dark and very deep. I looked down into it and I knew if I let myself fall into it, I would never come back. I would go crazy and lose myself forever. I had been holding on to sanity by my fingernails for a while and was doing so because of my children. I had to admit the will to continue to be strong on my own would not last.
The next visit I had with Elaine, I told her what I saw and that I agreed with her - I needed an antidepressant. Even in the midst of my emotional pain and barely hanging on, I could see she was relieved. I can be a stubborn SOB so she had her work cut out for her and this must have given her such satisfaction and solace. The part of me that could still think straight realized she had been scared for me.
Elaine told me about her supervisor and how she is required to keep him abreast of her clients. He was a psychiatrist that could write scripts and he would await my call to see him.
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