Waiting for the on.
The Doctor returned my call and left voice mail for me.“I think what you describe is normal for this medication and will pass in 2 to 3 weeks. If you are not suicidal, stick with it. Oh yes, you could increase the dose to 300 mg just to see if that improves the situation.”
I was very ready for improvement. The depression was getting worse and I needed sleep. The night before I called, I could only manage 3 hours or so. The night before that it was about 4. I had truly forgotten the last time I ate or what it was I consumed. Finally the thought of 3 more weeks of what I was feeling was too much to bear. I decided I would increase the dose the next day.
The evening The Doctor left his message was also my regular therapy session. I walked into her office, sat down and started to tell her that I had been diagnosed with depression and I had begun the medication as prescribed. I told her it wasn’t helping and that Doctor had said if I wasn’t suicidal yet I was OK. Midway through the phrase “I don’t know if I’m suicidal or not” I broke completely down. I had never done this in her office before – never. Liquid tears, no longer just dry sand caught in my aching throat, poured from my eyes. For 30 minutes they flowed and I sobbed out my story for the last week. At the end of my session my eyes were drier but they hurt so badly. My therapist said the flow of emotion was a sign that I wasn’t dead inside but alive and I was trying to express that part of me I had kept buried for so long. I hung my head as I left her office not wanting to look at anyone really nor did I want to be seen.
I have spent considerable time and energy in my life mastering the art of being nearly invisible. More exactly this is instinctively being able to impact human senses in a neutral way. I sit in the back of the room or along the side. If I’m in a lit area I am motionless in as much shadow as I can find. I open and close doors quietly. The object of walking is to make as little sound as possible. No thumps, clicks or bumps. In fact, just sitting is hard work. No sudden moves allowed. No sounds to speak of. I’m always alert to the fact that I can do nothing that might draw attention. If I must pass someone in a hall somewhere my eyes are averted and I carry my head at about a 45 degree angle. I learned early in life that any eye contact is an invitation for human interaction and I knew that, when given a chance, people would hurt me unless I knew who they were. Even then they might just for the hell of it. This is why I’m so off balance in unfamiliar surroundings where interaction with strangers is required. If talking to another human isn’t expected behavior I can tolerate these things though.
The twist on all this is that I don’t appear neutral physically. I’m in fair shape for my age and wear my hair long. To my ass in fact. It’s unique for this cultural moment. I ride my motorcycle with the streaky blonde pony tail streaming out behind me. The bike is a black sport bike. Again, unique for my age. Most in my age group ride cruisers. I get lots of stares when I’m riding.
In general you can easily pick me out of a crowd. But this paradox leads to questions-
Why would I want to be unique and stand out in some respects but hide in others?
How did I get like this?
How can I function in a world filled with people?
Will I ever figure me out?
Will I go mad trying?
Why is it important anyway?
My wife and I went to our first couples counseling session today.
It was a neutral experience.
posted by Knot @ 11:10 PM
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