Counseling Saved My Life Twice

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.

It's Official - I'm Divorced! And so is the cat.

June 21st, ladies and gentlemen.  That's the date of my divorce.  I am happy to be free.  Happy that that time of my life is finally over.  Sad that it came to that.  Drinking ruined the man and the marriage.  It rots a person from the inside out and then pushes out from the drinker's pores to drip and fall all over those within close proximity poisoning on contact.  It eats through the skin as effectively as acid burning and eroding the tender flesh leaving exposed that which should be protected.

Each day the reality of it becomes more real to me and I have to smile and do a happy dance...on the inside.  I don't want to scare people by doing my own improvisational interpretation of joy in public.

As I'm sitting here at the dining room table writing I look up and see my other cat, Senator, lounging on the back of the living room couch.  I got him back from the ex about 2 weeks ago.  Having Senator back is just another thing to add to my list of happy.  I have a wonderful friend/classmate that did me the biggest favor by negotiating the details with the ex while she was up in Maryland for a wedding.  She got the cat, bought him the proper carrier in which to fly him, took care of him, made him feel safe through the process, and then at 12:30 in the morning coordinated with me to hand him off.  She and her mom gave me something that cannot be given a monetary value.

Senator came back to me overweight, shedding, his coat shabby and sprinkled with dandruff, and without the personality that prompted me to name him Senator.  His beauty was marred.  I am glad to report that his coat is getting back its sheen and elegance.  He has already lost 1.5 pounds and not because I have limited his food intake - he has done that himself.  Eating is no longer a substitute for what was missing.  The most glorious part is that his personality has resurfaced and he is back to walking around like a pompous fool.  He also came back to me with a very bad habit of yowling incessantly in the middle of the night.  That has stopped, too. No need for it.

So, Senator and I are both now free from what haunted us.  He and I are content now.  Come to think of it, I'm not yowling in the middle of the night anymore, either.

Itchy Hives

I've got a 5-page paper I need to write, create an eye-catching poster board, and then ready myself for a mini presentation in front of the class for school.  I am over a week behind at work.  I am crossing my fingers and toes and anything else that will comfortably cross that my June 18th divorce hearing will not only stay as scheduled but go off without a hitch.  I am gritting my teeth hoping that the husband I am crossing everything for so that the divorce on June 18th happens will mow the lawn and allow potential buyers into the house so that it can be viewed and sold.  A couple of weeks ago I had to take $10K out of my IRA to save it from foreclosure because my hopefully ex as of June 18th has decided that even though he is the only one living in the house he shouldn't have to help pay the mortgage.  I am living with my mother who never stops creating sound.  She is either humming, singing, or talking and not necessarily to anyone in particular or for any reason.  You know those dog owners that silence their dogs from barking?  Yes, I do appreciate all she has done for me so don't get your feathers all flustered.  My mother has also given me multiple opportunities to learn how to politely yet firmly set and reset boundaries that keep getting crossed.  At first I wasn't so polite.  Hopefully I am better at ti now.  I have decided I have to figure out my finances to see if I can safely move out.  As a matter of fact as I am writing this she is talking to me.  A week ago my son-in-law was shot and murdered by a woman off of her meds.  Now my daughter, at 29, is a widow with a 2.5 year old.

I am getting over a yeast infection (TMI?) and have been battling hives ever since I got the news about my son-in-law.  My body is talking to me.  Well, I think it is yelling at me.  I've got too much stress.  I do walk as often as possible.  At least 3 times a week.  I have a fantastic boyfriend that does what he can to help me take it down a notch whether it is affection or just talking me off the ledge.  At the age of 51 I never thought I would be using the word "boyfriend" to describe a part of my life. 

Stress sneaks up on me.  This time it was in the middle of the night and that is why I woke up with hives.  My brain stays awake while my body sleeps.  Hold on.  I have to take a scratch break.

Ok, I'm back.  I normally try to wrap these up somehow.  Draw a conclusion.  Say something humorous.  I don't have any answers and that is why I'm writing.  So.......I'll see you soon.

P.S.  My mother is still talking.