A continuation of my recognition of Depression.
When I came home that evening from the 'doctor', I had a few pieces of paper folded up neatly in my pocket. The whole drive home seemed to take just a little longer as I had turned off the radio just to hear myself think and run the whole previous meeting in my head numerous times over.
I don't know how many times I disected certain key words: ADHD, Bipolar, medication, Lexapro, Clonzapem, control. Wait, only crazy people are associated with these things right? Was someone who only just met me go on to tell me I have a screw loose?
I pulled into my garage and turned off my engine. I sat in my car a few moments taking deep breaths. I have to collect myself before I walk in the door and my wife asks me the inevitable: "So, what did they say?" And even more imporantly, how was I going to answer?
I decided rather quickly to be honest and quick, maybe play it off a bit as 'that was what I was expecting' and shrug my shoulder as to indicate the guy was a quack.
I walked in the door and straight to the fridge. I wanted an ice tea. Of course my wife was home watching the television , and there was an awkaward momement. Maybe there wasn't as far as she was concerned, but I felt it....at least in my own mind. When she looked at me, I knew the question was comming, and it seemed as if 100 answers filled my head and I could pick anyone of them. Now that I think about it, I was already on the defensive, self-protection mode before anything was even asked.
And then it came....'The' question that is.
I Placed my glas down on the kitchen table and looked at her. She did not get up from the sofa. I was very scared and fearful of her reaction. It could be anything from sarcastic, to non-caring, to pity. Everything negative that is. I did not exepct any support from her or an understanding of 'my' feelings. I mean, this was all in 'my head', not hears, right?
But I was honest. I explained in brief detail on what the doctor told me, and his suggestions that I be put on medication. I am really not sure what I was really expecting as a response from her, so no matter what she did or said I guess would have been a surprise to me.
"Well, I guess you better go get them filled then.", she said.
Part of me was instantly hurt. I thought I just bared my soul to some quack, and now I come home to my wife for some empathy, and all I got was a very non-chalant "Well, I guess you better go get them filled then."
"Okay", was all I could muster, and I wnet back to doing nothing and she went back to the TV. I'm not sure what either of our strategy was at this time....Maybe hers was to not talk about it because she knew I was already embarrassed and ashamed, maybe she knew not to rub salt on an open wound, maybe she thought she could just roll with it and we just won't talk about 'my crazy husband'. I'm sure my thoughts weren't that much different.
I do know that I became super sensitive to all the 'Prozac', or 'depression' related commercials on TV. It seemed that when they came on I was to frozen to say anything, lest I bring up my own situation, or somehow relate it back to me.
Even today, when television shows even *hint* that a character has an 'issue', I seem to tense up, even more so with my wife in the room. I am awaiting her to ask me I suppose "So, are you feeling depressed today? Do you want to hurt yourself?" I guess I am scared of her to ask me, because I still don't know if I can ever answer truthfully.
To be continued.....
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