Every Thursday afternoon, I have a routine. I walk up the hill of the Quartier Latin in Paris, I stop in front of the bicycle shop and fantasize about owning that sweet blue number. I walk on until I arrive in front of a primary school, and punch in the entrance code of a small, inconspicuous building. I go up to the second floor. I ring the door bell. A slight man opens the door, shakes my hand, takes me to the waiting room. When the previous patient leaves, he comes to fetch me and I sit in the large leather armchair, feeling overly large and strange.
How was your week?
I take some time to answer this. Because there are so many answers, every time. It went fine. I did loads of things. I talked to people I don't know and it wasn't scary.
So I answer.
It was OK. But I'm still sad.
Why are you sad?
Why am I sad, indeed. I don't know, Mr Shrinko. Please open my head and empty it of all its shit. It's that same bloody question I always have to answer. Why did you try to commit suicide? Why do you cry for hours? Why does getting up feel like picking up the globe? How can YOU complain? What's wrong with you?
I get why I should ask myself this question. It has to begin somewhere. But the truth is, every answer I give (I'm stressed, I'm not good enough, my family is going to pieces) is never the truth. I don't feel like I belong here, never have. But that doesn't mean I don't try. I straighten myself up and I look at him straight in the eyes, and I tell him that next week I'll feel better. Or that I know it's just a phase. And he knows that I'm not being honest, but something more important for me: I'm being optimistic.
See you next week.
So if I know how the routine goes, why do I go back?
I want to be happy. I will be happy. I believe in me.
Sometimes I find the right answers.
Well, That Was Fun
Il y a 3 mois
It's one of those things that you *will* have an answer for one day. But that answer may not come for years. The fact that you continue to go to therapy is great, and you're right: you will be happy Maybe not now, maybe not tomorrow, but you will be.
RépondreSupprimerI know the feeling of unexplained, overwhelming sadness, and it sucks. While I've never attempted suicide, I'v still gotten to some very dark places, and even now I feel overwhelming sadness wash over me for seemingly no reason. It sucks because most people just don't get it. They expect you to snap out of it, but you just *can't*.
You don't have to answer as to whether you are or are not, but antidepressants, if you're not on them, may be a good thing to add to treatment. Therapy and meds combined has the most success rate.