I love my doctor. He is supportive, and I trust him. I can say anything to him.
I can sit there with him and say "Hi, so I think I'm dying" and he will not be fazed or make me feel like I am overreacting. He will talk it over with me, ask the right questions, and say everything right.
I can take the boys to go and see him and he will always ask how I am. And that remembering means a lot. It's easy to feel like just a number when it comes to your doctor, because really you are. A lot of numbers.
But the fact that he remembers what I'm going through means a lot to me.
He tells me to call if I ever need to speak to him or to get an appointment whenever I need to talk about the depression and anxiety.
So, anyway, I am due to see him soon. To discuss the next step in this anxiety and depression battle.
I think for a while we both ignored the depression part. He knows how much "depression" means to me in that I am so scared of it and don't want it to be a part of my life anymore. And we tried to focus on the anxiety.
But it was time to face up to it. And to forget about plans in the past to avoid medication.
I told him my fears. And he understood.
And when I asked for him to keep an eye on me and to not let me go on them alone he understood and said he would be there for me.
Which gave me a wonderful sense of reassurance.
I had to do other things before the medication route was to begin. These things I have done and I wrongly put off going to see him because I wanted one last go and doing this by myself.
I started focusing more positively on things in my life. And writing about them.
I have tried to address and accept the depression. Almost like an "Ok, you're here, lets work together, let's not fight".
But the depression has other ideas.
I have fought so hard against this, and I feel I am going nowhere. Just reversing and smashing so hard into a brick wall. Harder and harder every time.
And it's time to accept that I can't keep doing that. And I need to try and stick some bumpers up.
And if those bumpers come in the form of antidepressants than that is what is meant to be.
It's not my ideal. But is depression my ideal? Of course not.
So, I try and book an appointment with my doctor. I'm desperate.
I feel at my lowest this week. I say that because I forget about how low I feel, but yesterday I wanted to shut myself off from the world completely.
And I don't want to feel like that.
And then there's another one of those brick walls.
Being told you should ring back in two to three weeks to see if you can get an appointment.
I say ok. I didn't know what else to say.
But coming off the phone I realise that it's another month of desperation. Of fighting and feeling scared and I consider ringing back and begging to see him.
I consider seeing another doctor, which I don't want to do at all.
So I write a letter, to my doctor. Telling him I phoned in desperation but won't be able to even see about getting an appointment for another two or three weeks. I drop it off at the surgery. And now....I wait.
So, whilst I wait for a response I will plough through the darkness some more.
Swimming to the top to find the light and the happiness to fight this and to not let it completely take over my life.
