conversations with my psychiatrist
I met with my psychiatrist yesterday, after a two-month gap. This is a brief record of my conversations with him, mostly for myself. But, who knows, perhaps it resonates with someone out there.
I always appreciate the space and time my psychiatrist provides me to talk. Whenever I greet him with my typical there's so much I have been wanting to tell you, his response is always tell me everything, tala. I have all day. I know listening to other people's problems is his job, but this simple gesture makes me feel heard and seen.
It was 5:30 pm, I recall, and I was avoiding eye contact (Guilt? Shyness?) while anxiously rambling about my worries. I was staring at the sky beyond the window, the one whose sill held a painting of a beautiful woman. I confessed that I never thought I'd make it this far, and now that I am still here, I am unsure how to move forward. I felt so behind compared to people I knew (engaged, graduated, traveling, living), while I still battle my mental health.
I also told him I felt pressured from family's expectations of me and how it substantially contributed to my depression. Is it wrong to live for myself? I question him. It's never wrong to live for yourself. You should. It is a must. I'm not sure why his reply, though straightforward, almost drove me to tears. It's like I have been waiting for permission from someone to finally live life on my own terns.
I also expressed my concern about the effectiveness of my current medications, as I can feel my depression demonstrably returning. Should I feel "happy" on antidepressants or is its mere function to make me calmer, emotionally numb in a way? He said both - I should feel tranquilized and also experience positive emotions. He adjusted my prescription, as I haven't been feeling the latter.
Before I left, he told me he wants me to enjoy life. I gave him a small note of appreciation, to add to his Wall of Appreciation where patients leave him gratitude letters. I see him again in December.