A Little Better…

in my mind, I think of song lyrics as I start to write each post…today’s is plucked from the Beatles, …”I have to admit, it’s getting better. A little better, since you’ve been mine….Getting so much better all the time.”

Well, at least I can say that when referring to my depression. It’s been several months now that I’ve been on this route – Wellbutrin in the AM, the combo of latuda/vibryyd in the pm.  I still kinda hope that one of those will go away but am also just happy that, for the majority of my days, I’m feeling really good!  There are days, definitely days, where I still would prefer to hunker down in bed – but I’m not.  I don’t let myself  do that, and for now, that is working.

I did something today – I wrote a letter to my old boss.  The one who let me go – the one I couldn’t be honest with about why I wasn’t functioning at work.  I couldn’t be honest with him, because I couldn’t be honest with myself.  I was hiding.

Hiding from myself while I was hiding from everyone else.  I was pretending I was the “old” Deb.  The “fine” Deb.  The one who could do it all.  The one who was smiling inside AND outside – and who meant it.

There are days like today, when I sat down to write that letter, where I remember.  I remember how deep that hole was.  How alone I had made myself and how alone I felt.  And I think about where I am today.

Is today perfect? No. Way.

Is it better? HELL! YES!

Even with everything else that is going on around me, I feel capable.  I feel confident that I can maneuver through it all. That I’ve found the help that I’ve needed to get to where I am today and to get me moving towards tomorrow.

And I have to Thank that Boss.  If he hadn’t fired me – would I be here?  If he hadn’t put the process into motion that would get me back to California – would I physically and mentally be here? Would I have been able to get my shit together – for me.  For my parents who need me.  For my family.  For my friends so that I can continue to grow and learn and laugh.

Would I? I honestly can’t answer that because even once I was physically here in California, I was still lost and scared and hiding.  I’m not sure what it was that helped me to pick up the phone that day and start trying to find my psychiatrist. I don’t know what was different about that day.  But I do know where it started, so thank you Boss.  Thank you.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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