I surrendered today. I admit I am unable to manage the zillion little things that plague my mind and force it to a point where it can no longer function normally. So I saw a psychiatrist this morning. Looking back just a few hours to the time when I broke down in front of the doc, I think I was pathetic. I was going to tell him calmly what my problems were and ask him for a way to manage things one step at a time. Instead, I burst into tears. I couldn't even look at him. In the midst of all the crying, I tried to remember the list of things I was supposed to tell him. It must have seem so unconnected, but he's probably used to women (and men) breaking down in front of him.At the time - I realize now - I just needed a place to cry and someone to talk to. This time, I couldn't tell Mum and I hated myself for wanting to break down like that. It's not the first time I've come to the office after an unpleasant morning. But this time, I realized 15 minutes after putting on my computer that I had no idea what I was doing. Asking for help seemed the right thing to do. I already had a recommendation for this doctor and he was available at a nearby hospital right then. So I went.
He's prescribed me some medication. Mild stuff he said. I don't want to get hooked, so I'm going to go back next week. He did say we needed to sit and talk it out. He probably has more time at his clinic in Indiranagar. I'll go there next week, when the medicines get over. Hopefully, the drugs will help me be a little more lucid.
I would probably liked to have a long session this morning, but he's the doctor. He must have realized - as I do now - that I needed to be thinking calmly before I vented any more. I like what he asked me. "Has anything happened in the past few days to make you so upset?" The answer was no, it was a build up.
I know now that I'm not as strong as my Mum. She's mild, extremely patient and lives in hell. How she does it is beyond me. I'm only 34 and I've given up trying to manage on my own. I also know that I need to stop burdening her with my problems. I need to give her strength at this stage in life. I can't do that if I'm falling apart myself.
Equally importantly, I need to be a good mother to my son. He has a major doctor's appointment coming up and this is one situation where I am hoping for the best but I am definitely not prepared for the worst. Of late, something tells me he will beat this thing. It's like an inner voice. But I'm a mother, so what weight does that confidence carry? I wonder if I am being in denial about facing the worst prospect and doing some more waiting.
They say such crises bring families together. It has certainly brought me closer to my son. But it has done nothing to heal the rift between my husband and I.
I keep wondering if God is trying to tell me something. I see things and I wonder if they are signs. Like the 1-year-old girl we met at the eye hospital last time. She has no vision in one eye because of an accident at home. She was taken to the OR right after my son and the parents were hoping the doctor (the same one who treats my son) would be able to reattach a nerve so she could see again. The surgery wasn't successful for them. I remember the dazed disbelief on the mother's face and the noisy denial in the father's voice. Was that a sign, telling me to be prepared for something? I literally ran away from them as soon as I could without being rude, but it still haunts me.
Time for another prayer and a fervent hope that my son is not suffering for my sins...
Image courtesy: www.unprofound.com
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