I wanted to say thank you to all the folks who reached out to me after my last post, most of whom I didn’t even know were reading the blog. It meant a great deal to me. That post sat in my drafts folder for over a week before I decided to publish it.
I’m away on a much needed break with my family. On top of all the mood stuff I was going through, I was also burning out from work. Or maybe it was the mood stuff causing the burnout or vice versa. Hard to know at this point. Being present for patients is really hard when I am barely present for myself.
I tell my patients that they have to talk about how they are feeling with friends and family when they get depressed or anxious. The old adage that doctors make the worst patients is true.
I didn’t take my own advice. I wasn’t talking about how I was feeling. There was guilt about my parents. Guilt about not helping my brother enough. There was shame for wanting to crawl into a hole and never come out. Shame for feeling weak and paralyzed; shame for the thoughts of death and dying I was having. And then there was the anger toward myself for falling into the black hole to begin with. I did it to myself. I was the one who weaned off her medication a year ago. I was the one who was arrogant enough to think I didn’t need them anymore. I had been feeling good for so long. Work was great, I was running and life was good. I didn’t need those pills anymore.
I had it all figured out.
But I forgot one thing.
Depression runs in my family. It wasn’t my first time getting sick. I should have known better. That’s the real kicker here.
I should have known better.
Now I have to sort through my ego and arrogance. It’s time to take a long hard look and regroup.