Even though I didn't slit my forearms as I so desperately wanted to do...even though I put myself in the hospital before I grew too tired to fight that overwhelming impulse...I still feel as though I have crossed some invisible line drawn in intangible sand. As if committing to hospitalization forced me to admit that I am capable of self destruction if pushed hard enough. Or as if bowing to the obvious need for inpatient treatment has finally made me see that this depression is not a phase but an illness that requires not only medication, but careful observation and behavior modification.
At first I didn't take the fifty million packets of paper that I got almost daily about depression and it's causes. And I have no idea what changed my perspective, but it did change and I still have those fifty million pieces of paper and I'm working on incorporating them into a program that I can use to track my progress and symptoms daily. Maybe that's the line....the realization that these fifty million papers are saying something that I really, really need to pay attention to.
No comments:
Post a Comment