I was talking to my therapist last week. He is busy playing ‘catch up’ on all my issues; I’ve known him about ten years but haven’t gone to him for therapy in about five years, probably more. Yeah, I could look it up, but nobody gives a shit about exactly how long it’s been. Last year I saw a different therapist, someone I liked a lot. I’m not sure what to think about that.
“It’s been a… a long time since my last confession.”
Yeah, everyone knows what that means. It’s been TOO long, ha.
So where was I? Playing catch up. Yeah. The best way I can describe my mental state is “clusterfuck.” My spell check tells me that isn’t a word, but it is totally a word, and it’s where I’m at many days. So when i decided to return to therapy, I sat down and tried to figure out some kind of game plan; what did I need to focus on for optimal results? Yeah, I overthink everything, I’m under delusions that I know how to “do therapy” better than my actual therapist, lol. I have issues with myself, with my kids, with work, with my wife, hell, I can probably work in my parents and the environment and politics, too, if there’s time.
Naturally, my doctor saw through most of my bullshit, it didn’t take him long to tell me a few things that I probably already knew but kept denying. We did talk a bit about depression. Yeah, I’m glossing over stuff here, but that’s because I write these things down as a means to sort through my own feelings. I don’t know that anyone is actually reading here, or how you may feel about what I write, that is all secondary to my writing things down ;) Again I digress. My depression. Yes, it’s there. Does it impair me? Of course. But HOW badly does it impair me, and what to do about it?
Wouldn’t it be great if you could just pee in a cup, or get an x-ray, and get back a firm diagnosis of your mental state? It doesn’t work that way. LMAO.
Anyway, we talked about it, and one of his questions was about what happened to my mood when I moved out. To me, it seemed, for lack of better terms, flat. I didn’t fall off a cliff, but I wasn’t happy, either. Of course it’s more complicated than that, this is a bit of diarrhea of the brain. I’m also looking back after seven or eight months and trying to remember how I was feeling at the time. I found myself telling him of things I do like about living alone.
I can be nekkid anytime I want.
I don’t have to share the TV. I can watch movies, listen to music when I want.
I can choose what I eat and when.
It’s quiet when I want it to be. Which is a lot of the time.
My list goes on. Very superficial stuff, for the most part. I feel selfish for feeling the way I do. I feel selfish for seeing any silver lining at all in my failing marriage. Maybe my wife is right, that all I want is to take the easy way out, to escape my responsibilities. Escape. (I hear Dory say “E-Scop-A”) But what, if any, of these things are because of depression? And ultimately, does it matter if it’s because of depression or because of something else? When I say “I like to pick what I eat for dinner,” am I dodging a bigger question, or am I really just happy about picking my dinner?
I miss things, too. I miss adult conversation. Adult as in ‘grown up,’ not adult as in sexy. Yeah, honestly I miss sex, too, and I miss holding hands and sharing jokes and winks. I miss sleeping beside my wife. I doubt she misses my snoring and farting. I don’t think I was a very good partner, looking back. Not that I can change the past. I miss my kids. I miss my puppy dog. I wonder what tomorrow will bring, or next month, or next year. I have honestly wondered at tunes if I would even be around next month or next year. So much of this I’m making up day to day.
I warned you, this was going to be rambling.
My list of things to work on in therapy keeps growing. My bank account does not. This is gonna be a bit of a wild ride, and probably too short, and then wherever I am I’m gonna have to just move on.