I went to Sacramento last weekend to spend some time with friends, and came back to Fremont in tears and so depressed I could barely move.
There’s something to be said about having friends outside your comfort zone. People who challenge you to be something other than – or better than – yourself. But there’s a fine line between that and being made to feel like an outcast. And that was how I felt.
I spent most of the afternoon crying to Dan about how I felt that I didn’t belong and that no one accepted me for who I was. He assured me that no matter how I felt, lots of people loved me for who I was, and that even if I felt like I belonged nowhere else, I belonged to our family.
(Side note: Have I mentioned that my husband is fucking AWESOME?)
But these feelings of “not belonging” are ones that have plagued me for a long time, especially since moving back to the Bay Area. I think it’s because I got so comfortable in Merced – with my consistent circle of friends and a job that I hated, but that was secure almost as a result of its awfulness – that even coming “home” feels like a major change.
Change isn’t something I deal well with, and I’ve had a lot of it recently. I got married. I got a new job. I moved. (And moved. And moved.) And as a result of all of that, maybe I’m more sensitive than I would normally be to off-putting comments or jokes made at my expense. But I’m not interested in analyzing my feelings – I’m only interested in trying to make them go away.
So on Monday, I went to the doctor. Dan came with me for moral support. And I talked to her about my depression and anxiety, and the thoughts of suicide that forced Dan to drive his ever-growing gun collection to Turlock for storage at his parents’ house. (His mom was thrilled about that one.)
But I needed that. Aside from Dan, I hadn’t discussed those thoughts with anyone else. And even with Dan, I wasn’t as explicit as my doctor forced me to be. She told me that she would up my anti-depressant’s dosage, but only with the guarantee that I would not use these pills to harm myself. She also encouraged me to continue counseling, as the medication alone would not altogether make these feelings disappear.
That’s something I’ll have to work on. I’ll have to figure out how to take control of the feelings not stifled by medication, and how to make them less painful than they really are. I’ve done it before, and I’m hopeful that I can do it again, especially now knowing I have the full support and unconditional acceptance of at least one person in my life.