I don’t like admitting that there is in fact something wrong with me. It’s something that is out my control. Something I have had to deal with all of my adult life but never admitted to until recently. When I couldn’t fix it myself anymore. All the things that I use to do weren’t working, and I couldn’t function on a daily basis. So, even though I have been told forever to go to the doctor, I am one of those kind of people who have to come to a breaking point. The point where I get sick and tired of being sick and tired, and I went. He asked me a bunch of questions, a fairly painless process, we talked and he prescribed me two new medicines to try, and told me I had to meet him halfway. Meaning, I could not hole up at home and wait for them to start working. I had to keep doing things, going places. It’s been six days and I can tell a world of difference. I feel human again.
Thee is nothing wrong with asking for help, no matter the situation. It should not have taken me as long as it did, knowing that is what I should have done a long long time ago. Everyday is a battle. It doesn’t matter if you have depression or anxiety, it’s a battle just trying to live a good life and be a good person, but I can tell you that if you have to deal with all of that together, it’s too much. I felt like I was fighting a losing one and I was all alone. I know I wasn’t, but knowing and feeling were two different things. So I have to take medicine.Not something I am good at remembering to do.I will admit, I didn’t want to at first, but I don’t want to miss anything. My kids are growing so fast, and will be out on their own soon so I want to spend as much time with them as I can. Not fighting this battle because I don’t want to take a pill….or three….not worth it!