So at this very moment I am sitting on a bench in a room that has the air-conditioner even though it is 50 something degrees outside. Sounds crazy? Yeah I think so too but we will go over all that later.
So I went to see a therapist on Monday. Epic fail. This woman knew me when I was 16 and in trouble so the only thing she really said to me was that I was a passive suicidal person, that my mom was a good chunk of the blame, that I was depressed and that she would see me in a month and get me an antidepressant evaluation in 3 weeks. I felt just as horrible when I left as I did when I went in.
I called my midwife and her receptionist told me I could come in Tuesday as a walk in so that is what I did. She sent me to this wonderful woman who was like a blessing. I poured my heart to her, cried some and in the end she confirmed that this is postpartum depression. Those words a bittersweet typing them. PPD? Me? I guess that means I am officially crazy. I feel like it. Dr. K (we shall refer to her as) said that she wanted to see me in three weeks and she got me in as soon as possible to see my midwife about mess.
The difference between the two therapist was so distinct. But I am glad I got a second opinion. I feel scared of what the mess will do but at the same time I hope they give the normal me back.