Debates Over Therapy

I was writing a nice post yesterday. A lighter piece from the last few days, full of love and sweetness. I apologize that you're not reading that one instead.

About half way through, the depression crashed into me like a damn semi truck. I haven't been able to shake it since. Or a tidal wave might be more accurate. Since trying to stay on top of the depression is like keeping my head above water as it tries to pull me down to the dark depths.

Sir wants me to talk to someone, a professional. This is not the first time we've had this conversation. I doubt it'll be the last. We're both biased in different directions about therapy. I am so frustrated by therapists that I let that malice enter my words directed His way. It wasn't fair and I apologized for it. He wants me to be happy and healthy. I can't blame Him for it.

I don't see the personal advantages of seeing a therapist. I know it can do wonders for people. It's a positive if the therapist is any good. But I don't like therapists nor do I trust them. And the one time I met the right therapist and gave it a true chance, I was a mess constantly. I could not function in my day to day life, and we had barely touched a tip of the iceberg of issues.

I keep everything carefully locked away for a reason. I don't go near those parts because they're like landmines. I do much better when I stay far away from it all. But you ask, what caused the initial spark of depression?

The best I can tell, though it seemed like a reaction to being hit by negative waves at the time, was I had a panicked moment about this blog. That what I was doing, writing about Sir and I, was wrong. That He must hate me for it. Obviously, He reads this and it's something we've talked about before. Yet there was no voice for rational thought yesterday, especially not above the sea of chaos and darkness.

But this blog doesn't make sense for being the initial start of a depressive episode. It could have been something delayed from anything. Or my mind simply fucking with me. I wouldn't put it past my mind to have a depressive episode be caused by nothing in particular.

I know Sir is just worried about me. He hates when I'm not doing well and I know He feels like there's not much He can do to help. It's why He suggested that I go see someone for help. It comes from a place of love and concern. It's likely the only reason why I'm not mad or why it didn't further set off the depression. It's frustrating because therapy is supposed to be the doctor and medicine for the mind. Yet for me, it's one of the quickest ways to shut down and retreat.

So, I don't know what to do. Stay with keeping my head above the water I guess. I do feel better than I did yesterday. The depression hasn't been lasting near as long since around the new year. I'm sure it'll be a few days yet, but I'm fighting the good fight. Maybe I will get into therapy at some point. Actually, if Sir and I stay together, I'm sure it'll be a 'when' not an 'if.' We've had this conversation too many times now. Eventually I'll go just to prove one of us right and to stop the continuing debate over this.

Hopefully I'll be feeling better soon to finish the sweetness post from yesterday. This blog needs something light and fun. Truthfully, I'm in need of that too. And I could use some time with Sir but that's always the case. :)