Don Quixote

9

Every year my mother would take me to the doctors office for a yearly check up.

This time it was different though. While we waited in the awkwardly quiet waiting room they had me fill out a form. Asking questions like "have you drunken more than a few sips of alcohol in the past year?", "how you had thoughts of hurting yourself or others?", "have you ever thought you would be better off dead?" Ect.

Surprisingly, I answered honestly. If I took the same form now I would never pour my heart and mind onto it like I had.

I handed it to the nurse on the way to a room in the back for the check up.

When the doctor was done with my physical check she had told me and my mother that my answers on the form concerned her and she recommended counseling through the doctors office.

I ended up seeing a woman named Susan for a few months. I didn't like her at all. She was older and very pestering. Gave me advice and methods I wasn't willing to try but now that I think about it if I had put in the effort it might have worked out better.

I had never thought of myself as depressed before that appointment.

I mean yes I wore the same clothes everyday (had no sense of hygiene), cried myself to sleep over the way I looked, ate 1 meal a day, slit my thighs every night before bed, and sent nude photos of myself to older men for self confidence and assurance but that wasn't depression was it?

I stopped seeing Susan and saw another lady for about 6 months before I stopped going to therapy as a whole. I was put on antidepressants that didn't help very much and anti anxiety medication as well.

Sometimes I wonder if I just can't be happy or if I subconsciously don't want to be happy at all.