Me (ranting about a former client who didn’t understand or value the services I provide as a tutor): “It must be nice for you– you know, to be a doctor, and work in an established, revered field where your clients actually have respect for the work that you do.”
Therapist: “Half my clients have personality disorders. I get called the c-word and am told to go fuck myself at least three times a week.”
Oh.
Alright well I feel better now.
I shaved my legs!
Discussing possible strategies for dealing with my seasonal depression….
Therapist: “Maybe start with some small, achievable actions. For example, shave your legs– because I know you, and I know you haven’t shaved them since summer ended.”
Me: “But if I do that now, then what will I get Eric for our wedding day?”
Therapist (sighs): “The gift of knowing he is marrying someone who regularly shaves her legs?”
Me: “So…lies. You’re saying I should get him lies.”
Therapist: <head in hands >
I have notoriously disturbing dreams, clearly driven by my anxiety. Sometimes they’re straight up terrifying horror shows, other times they are just upsetting and leave me feeling uneasy, like last night’s.
Eric: “Did you sleep ok? You were tossing and turning.”
Me: “No. I had a dream where, for whatever reason, I was walking around a mall holding thousands of dollars in a bag. And I stopped in the mall arcade, and put a $1000 bill in the arcade machine, even though I meant to put in a $10. But then it was too late. So it ate the money and gave me tickets. But then, I actually ended up winning all these vouchers– like thousands of dollars in vouchers. All I had to do was go claim it. But then somehow I misplaced the bag with my cash and vouchers, and I ended up losing all the money I started with, plus the money I won. I started panicking, sweating, running around the mall, trying to retrace my steps. Everyone was telling me how irresponsible I am. And the more they said it, the more I panicked, but no matter what I did I couldn’t find my way back to the money, and nobody would help me.”
(silent pause)
Eric: “I dreamt that I wore my new Uggs and someone was like– ‘you don’t have to wear socks with those, they’re so soft!'”
Welp. Tis the season.
That risky, terrifying moment when you break the protocol of assuming she’s a robot in order to confirm that your therapist has the same political views as you do.
She does.
Oh good, just what we needed– Kanye as the new face of mental health.
“It was at 10:30. And also yesterday.”
— My therapist, when I arrived for my 11:30 appointment today.
Me: “I refuse to raise children in a Trump-led country. If I have to wait 4-8 years to start a family, then so be it.”
Therapist: “Ok but let’s be realistic. Because science.”
*Disclaimer: This post is not meant to represent the experience or feelings of anyone but myself. I recognize that crawling out of depression and Trump being president are not universally analogous, nor is the comparison relevant to most people out there, especially the people most potentially threatened by his presidency. This is simply a personal, self-indulgent journaling of how I am processing my emotions and looking to stay positive and make sense of things in a time that is overwhelmingly challenging to do so. But mostly, it’s just an ode to a dear friend.
———————————-
Today I received this email from a dear friend…
Nine years ago, this same friend came to visit me in my darkest hour. I was living with my parents in Maryland, in the midst of an extremely serious depressive episode. I had left my job and my life in Philadelphia. I was literally sleeping in my parents’ bed, between them, too afraid to be alone with my thoughts. Despair was eating my insides. I couldn’t function, couldn’t eat, could barely breathe. Dressing myself was a challenge. I had lost any semblance of the life I had known and loved, and I saw absolutely no path to getting it back.
And then this friend came in from NY to visit. He dragged me into DC and forced me on a tour of our nation’s capital. And as we sat on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial, he promised me hope.
I didn’t believe him. I couldn’t see how that was possible. I couldn’t see past the very moment I was trapped in. I couldn’t imagine how I’d ever be able to function again, how I’d ever be able to take a breath that didn’t feel shallow. I couldn’t imagine ever holding a job. I couldn’t imagine being able to connect with anyone, on any level, ever again. If I couldn’t even imagine these simplest of human tasks, the idea of ever living a fulfilling, productive life seemed completely out of my reach. I wanted to die.
But this friend insisted on hope. He insisted that progress doesn’t happen in a straight line– but that eventually, we always move forward. He promised me I’d not only get my life back, but this painful experience would, in time, lead to an even better, more connected life than the one I had before.
I protested. He protested back. Eventually, too bone-tired and sad to argue, I nodded. My heart wanted to believe him but my mind told me he was full of shit.
Shortly after his visit, life began to change. It wasn’t instant and it wasn’t easy. It took work. It took a LOT of support from those around me. It took a damn village. It took faith. It took forcing myself into action. It took constantly reminding myself that no matter the setback, everything was going to be ok.
Today I not only function, I thrive. Today I not only breathe, I breathe deeply. Today I not only work, I have my own business. Today I not only connect, I get to marry and share my life with the most incredible man I’ve ever known.
My friend was right. My life is better today than the life I was living before my darkest hour. Not only because I survived the despair, but because I learned from it. It opened my eyes. It gave me perspective. It made me more empathetic. It deepened my connections with others. It inspired me to give back. It forced me to speak out. It sprung me into action, and inspired me to work on myself and stand up for others every chance I get. It made me realize that I have to cherish, appreciate, and look for the good if I want to ensure that darkness will never win in the end.
So thank you, friend. I needed this reminder of hope today. And not because there aren’t other messages of hope out there. There certainly are, thank god.
But you are a source I can trust.
Emily's Posts 