Agnes spotted a bake sale on our way to the grocery store. The bake sale was just a few blocks from our house. She wanted to stop right then, but I said we would swing back by the sale after we pick up the groceries. I kept my word and we drove back to the bake sale.
We browsed a bit, and Agnes wanted pretty much every treat that she found. We picked out a few goodies for her and her brothers too, and that’s when I heard a familiar voice.
A friend I hadn’t seen for the longest time ran up and gave me the biggest hug. She has an amazing job, and her kids are almost through high school. She saw Agnes and said, “that can’t be your little one…What has it been, ten years?”
We hugged once more, and she took a phone call. We paid for our treats and made our way to the car, but her words stuck with me. It had been ten years…
Ten years ago was when I started to get sick again…
Ten years ago I hadn’t been to the doctor about getting help for my condition. I kept on, didn’t sleep, and plowed through the migraines. I put on a brave face, and attempted a social life. I kept getting worse. I would get violently sick whenever I left the house to attend church, grocery shop, and MOPS meetings.
For two months I would wake up nightly with panic attacks in my sleep. At first I thought it was food poisoning, or a bad case of the stomach flu. Nobody else in the house got sick, and I kept getting worse.
I decided it was time to see the Doctor… I sobbed though that first appointment with the Nurse, who just happened to be a very good friend of mine. I remember her looking at the Doctor with tears in her eyes as she said “please help my friend.”
A few years passed and I stayed on my meds. I would have a checkup every now and then, refill this, answer that. Over those first five to seven years I had two different doctors. Two more people to tell my crap to, two more people to try and fix this wreck that is me.
I hadn’t had my meds adjusted in a long time, and I started to feel really bad again. This time I was experiencing new symptoms that I hadn’t in the past. I was concerned that I might need to be re-diagnosed. At this point I had been in a major depressive state with disassociation for a good eight months… I felt awful, and I scheduled an appointment before the start of Summer break.
The appointment went well, she adjusted my meds, and we talked a lot about my anxiety issues. I felt better after talking with her, and I even felt a bit more positive about Summer (Summer is when my depression peaks). I have a plan to check back with her in a few months if I’m doing well. Call immediately if I start feeling worse.
My last major depressive episode lasted eleven months…
I’ve only now had three weeks where I’ve almost felt normal.
Depression eats your time, and your mind can’t remember… It really has been ten years.
