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The Journey to Letting Therapy Help
It took a lot of time and a lot of therapists.
I started getting help for my depression from the moment I arrived in Melbourne. I was prescribed antidepressants and referred to counselling. This worked in so much as I didn’t kill myself, although my cycle of depression would continue to cycle up and down over the years. During that time I was diagnosed with many different things PTSD, depression, bipolar disorder, anxiety and borderline personality disorder. Good times. Love a label, or three.
I tried various therapists over the years. I don’t remember the very first one after I left my husband but there are court records to show that I went to one. He was nice enough to write a letter about me and how I was badly damaged and how sick that had made me. Even thinking about it now, even though I am well and happy makes me a little sad. All the years that were wasted not knowing, despite being told, just how damaged I was, how much help I needed and how much work I needed to do to repair that damage
Perhaps I was always destined to have depression but I definitely was not destined to have PTSD.
Finding a therapist is hard work. The problem is that just like people, you don’t like everyone you meet, you don’t understand everyone you meet, you don’t get on with everyone you meet…
