I remember the day my therapist said to me, “Mallory, you are clinically depressed.” I looked her straight in the eye and said, “I. AM. NOT” I hadn’t been seeing her long. I had made an appointment to see her only because my son and daughter were relentless in insisting that I needed to seek help..
So, I made a bargain with God. I said, “Lord, if You want me to see a therapist, then I will, but I have to see this person soon, like this week, or there is no need for me to go.”
I opened the phone book and began to look at names and ads in the yellow pages. I’d look at one, and it would look dark to me. I went through several ads in the yellow pages until I found Deb. Her listing actually looked light compared to all the others. Don’t ask me why, but that’s exactly what I was seeing. It took about an hour, but I made the call and said to God, “OK, this week or nothing.” It was Tuesday.
Deb called me back around 4:30 PM. She told me that her sister was ill, and that she was planning on visiting her, and that she’d be back in two weeks. She said that she’d call me then for an intake appointment. I said, “Fine,” all the time saying to God, “Ha! Ha! I don’t have to see anyone!”
The next morning, the phone rang, and it was Deb. She said, “I’ve decided not to go and see my sister. I can see you on Tuesday.” I was crushed. God wasn’t taking No for an answer from me. I said, “Fine.” I made the appointment, and hung up.” I was stuck.
Thus began a relationship with my therapist that I needed. Now, fast forward to my second visit with Deb. “Mallory, you are clinically depressed.” I looked her straight in the eye and said, “I. AM. NOT Maintaining eye contact, Deb looked at me and said, again, “Mallory, you are clinically depressed. You need medication.” Deb is very direct. She wasn’t going to let me off the hook. I’m the one who broke the eye contact. I remember I looked at the floor. (She has a beautiful floor in her office.) “What do you suggest? “ I asked.
We discussed some options, but because I felt that a medical intervention might not be in my best interests at this time, I opted for the holistic approach with medical supervision. I contacted my doctor who is an holistic MD, and began working with him using supplements. These supplements are pharmaceutical grade. I decided that if this approach did not work, I would seek a medical intervention.
Like most antidepressants, it took a while to build up my serotonin levels. At first, I was very disappointed because the “cure” wasn’t instantaneous. I still had my sad days where I cried, and, at times, went to bed at noon because I was simply exhausted from carrying the burden of my emotions around with me. I continued to work with Deb on the issues that had been buried for so many years. It was amazing to me what would bubble up unexpectedly. I also continued to work with my doctor adjusting the supplements until my serotonin levels were good again. I continue to take these supplements. I only wish my insurance company covered these medications, but they don’t. It is what it is.
I remember when I was discussing this issue of seeing a therapist with Jenny, I said, “I know EXACTLY what a therapist would have me do and that would be to keep a journal. I can do that on my own! I don’t need a therapist for that!” The funny thing is that Deb never asked me to keep a journal, but I have gone back to journaling. I revel in electronic journaling. This method of venting and thinking has helped me to rid myself of the garbage that had accumulated in my brain. My thinking had become distorted. My soul was sick.
Deb helped me tremendously! I faced a lot of issues that I needed to confront. I’m still working on them, and there are still pockets of resistance in my brain, but as I confront these demons, I grow stronger and stronger. My soul is healing.
Deb validated me when I needed that validation. I will be grateful to her forever for those simple words that validated me. Her kindness began the healing process for my mind and for my soul. Now, the work is mine! If I feel my vision becoming distorted again, I will seek therapy. My pride is no longer the issue. I know now that when my soul is sick, I need someone to help me heal. God heals in many ways. Miracles are wonderful, but when they don’t happen, sometimes we have to work and work hard redefining ourselves and our lives. Getting me into therapy was a tough job for my kids, but I am grateful. I hate to say this, but they were right.
