counseling

A few years ago, soon after my grandmother died, I went through a terrible time emotionally. I was a wreck.  I was in a a bad job situation, my father was adapting to life with my step-family, my closest friend was cheating on her husband and contemplating suicide.  (No, it wasn't C at that time.)  I had been in a job that I loved and that I excelled at. A new boss came on the scene and kept piling work on me.  She soon decided I was going because she could use my desk for someone who performed a different task than I.  I got into a job that was a very bad fit and was miserable.  Grief, adjustments, depression, road rage, and worrying about my friend who had taken up with an unemployed surfer she met at a park... it all compounded and was more than I could take.

Fearing my friends suicide, I confided to one of her family members my concern and all hell broke loose.  I was attacked.  My friend... who has since taken me back because she knows I love her... told me she wanted to blow up my car.  I felt like sugar on the floor.  It was hard to function at my lousy job.

I went to see a woman preacher at the Episcopal church where my family has attended for years.  I told her about my friend and what I did and how it was received.  I told her about the eery presence at my mother's death.  I told her everything in my heart.  That was the start of my seeking help.

I do not recall now what I did.  Somehow I went and saw my doctor and he said I needed counseling to go along with meds that would help me get a grip on the depression that was eating me alive.

I found a woman counselor/psycho-therapist.  Talking to her helped me so much.  That was when I started to spend bits of time with C.  The therapist said that I needed to have more fun.

If I hadn't taken this route, I don't know what would have happened.  I certainly would have continued on being absolutely miserable.  I wouldn't have found the ability to cope with the downside of daily life.

It's okay to seek help.