And so here it is. The 180. Sooner than I expected as well. Self and Hubby had a long and difficult chat earlier, well actually mostly he talked and I listened. He had solid, well reasoned, grounded in fact arguments as to why, once more, the idea of walking away from meds/Therapist is a bad one. Anyone who's been reading the blog for a while will probably notice this is becoming a recurring theme. It goes a little something like this.
- things are tough.
- I feel I'm over reliant on Therapist.
- Meds aren't working
- Solution? Stop both.
Or, the variation on this theme:
- things are great!
- I don't need Therapist any more.
- I don't need meds any more.
- Answer? Stop both.
The end result unfortunately, at least at this point in time, will probably be the same, and this is what I don't want to admit to. The almost inevitable slide if I give up support too soon. This is the crux of what Hubby and I spoke about today - I still, still, struggle to accept where and who I am. After all these years, countless hours with Therapist, medication, multiple healthcare professionals singing off the same hymn sheet - this blog!!!!!! - I still find it so tough. I don't want to accept that I'm still on the road to recovery, that the last month, despite its ups and downs, is the best we've had in a very long time. That before I can even begin to consider stopping medication or finishing with Therapist, things need to stay like this, stay at least relatively stable, for quite some time. I hate that. I really do. I hate to think that I actively need so much support, that there's no way of taking a test to physically measure where I am in recovery and how much longer it may take. Or even how much longer this window may last. I find myself thinking again that actually it really wasn't all that bad, I was exaggerating, I don't really have depression at all. And then I voice these things to Hubby, who, bless his heart, manages not to roar at me in utter frustration and walk away slamming every door in his wake, because he can remember with stunning clarity exactly how bad things were
, while I seem to have forgotten (blocked it out?!?) Funnily enough, it's coming back to me now that this is something Therapist and I spoke about, the dangers of whitewashing
over everything that's happened, because then I won't see the signs if it happens again.
So in terms of the two variations above, which is foremost right now? I think probably a combination really. Things aren't too tough, but they're not as great as I'd like either. I do feel over reliant on Therapist, and that is causing BIG problems for me. At the moment, I can't separate the person from the process - I see myself as reliant on her personally rather than reliant on counselling. I've created a persona for her based on absolutely nothing because I know virtually nothing about her, and I'm comparing myself to this persona. Naturally, I'm coming up wanting. Apparently this is quite common in long term therapy, but I don't really care. It feels awkward and horrible. The biggest, most horrible part about it is that I have to talk to her about it again, and I know how difficult and uncomfortable I'll find this. So the 'sensible' option would seem to be to walk away and pretend everything is fine. I can't do that. I have to talk it out with her, again, and trust that she's good enough at her job to be able to help me recognise what the best move is for me right now. In this frame of mind, I can't be trusted to make the right decision. So I'll listen to her. I'll listen to Hubby. On Tuesday I'll listen to the psychiatrist. Chances are they will all tell me the same thing, and like it or not, what they tell me is what I'll have to accept. That's my challenge right now.
Labels: acceptance, blogging, Hubby, Medication, psychiatrist, psychotherapy, stability, support, therapist