I thought things were set in stone for me, that sadness and grief and depression would be constants in my life, sorta like the evil monkey from "Family Guy" who pops out randomly to terrorize Chris.
I was wrong.
I had a therapy session Tuesday night that left me sobbing in the car on the way home, shaken to the core. Dr. A has been questioning my resistance to taking antidepressants. She told me, in no uncertain terms, that my refusal to medicate amounts to a subconscious desire to sabotage my marriage.
My first reaction was to give her the finger (she didn't see, as she was writing something at that moment, probably something along the lines of "batshit crazy").
But then I thought about it, and accepted that she was right. You see, I've felt for a long time like Hubby would be better off without me. In my darkest moments, I've told him to divorce me. I mean, I wouldn't want to be married to me - I have issues (ummm, that would be an understatement). If he left, I could let go of this guilt that consumes me, this feeling that I am an anchor around his neck dragging him down. He could go off and find a woman of proven fertility and have a family and be happy. So I stay sad and hopeless and inert, in this sick effort to push him away.
Only, he won't leave. I should have expected nothing else from a man who firmly believes that if you work out and don't puke, you didn't really work out. He commits, that man, even to the unpleasant.
And then I thought about my situation as if I were one of my friends. What would I say to friend-wifey? It might go a little something like this:
"You deserve to be happy. After all of the awful crazy things you've been through, you deserve it. Grief and trauma have changed you. Therapy is a good step, but if your therapist recommends a pill, don't be a dumb, resistant shithead (I can be a little meaner to myself than I would be to any other friend). Take the fucking pill. Make yourself well. Stop sabotaging your life."
So I decided to take the fucking pill (that is, if the red headed bitch comes for a visit this weekend, which, in all likelihood, she will). I will join the legions of Americans who medicate their sadness away, because I need to. I need to live, for myself, for Hubby, and for any child who comes into our lives (however that might happen). And as soon as I made the decision to get the prescription, I felt a weight lift off of me. I could breathe, and see hope in my future.
Plus, one of the side effects of this particular drug is weight loss. Who wouldn't be excited about that? I have to confess, that sold it for me - the thought that I could be a skinny happy girl makes me giddy. Nope, I'm not vain at all.
So, once I start the meds I'm going to try to blog more often, to have a record of me officially kicking depression's ass.
That's right, evil monkey, you are hereby evicted from my closet.