The unlucky number, for an unlucky day. I had been looking forward to this day for a week, today I would see a doctor and talk about what is happening to me, how extremely exhausted and emotional my life is now, how I can’t do the things I want to do and don’t recognize the person I have become, I expected to feel better after this day, be able to start looking forward, to start getting better. But it turns out my hopes for this day where too high, there was no magic thing that can make me feel better, there is no way to give me myself back at this moment.
Having to go to the doctor and talk about my feelings made me super anxious. I’m not open, I’m not a talker, especially not to strange people, people that don’t know me. An hour before I had the appointment I found myself throwing up, shaking and sweating, I was completely scared to talk about my feelings. But I did go, and I did talk. About my lack of energy, about the complete sadness and numbness I’m experiencing, about the lack of joy in my life, about the things that happened to my family and how I had just been running away for a year. After the talk I expected a miracle to happen, something that would make me walk out of the door like a different person, like myself. But it didn’t. I left with a note that I could use to see a psychologist and a phone number I could call if I would start having ideas about hurting myself. The appointment would be in two weeks and in the meantime I have to try to keep doing little things every day and be among people.
With this information I went to my office. I was standing opposite of it for 10 minutes before I had the confidence to go inside, to talk to HR about my return to the office. But there will not be a return, at least not very soon, not in a timeframe that is visible for my ADHD brain. More than six weeks, or maybe even months I’ll have to stay home, only allowed to come in for a chat, with some coffee or tea, but definitely no work for me. They will not call me even for the next two week, to make sure I get the rest I needed.
I was shocked. I knew I was not ok, but an anti – suicide phone number and a future without any work, that was much more than I expected. I expected the office to tell me to start coming in half days next week, I would have expected the doctor to give me some fancy pill that would make me able to do my life again, but nothing like this happened, they both sad the same, go home and face yourself, start accepting this feeling and try to keep doing the little things. While in my own schedule I should have been better by Sunday.
And then it hit me, I am not ok, and I am actually still not even accepting that I’m not ok. I still expect the impossible, I still expect myself to be able to keep going no matter what. I know that my sister and mother have stayed home for months last year because they were not ok, but until this moment I did not see that I am having the same thing, I did not accept that my own mental state is as bad as theirs or maybe even worse, I did not see and I did not listen. Now is really the time that I have to start listening, because I am worth so much more than this strict and harsh treatment that I have been giving myself, all these years.