I actually dialed the phone and scheduled an appointment with a therapist.
Because I was tired of feeling like I was riding a rollercoaster 24/7.
After so many highs and lows you find that either want to hurl or just get off the ride in general. Well since I hate throwing up - spewing my bad moods on all my friends- I figured a therapist was my best bet.
I've chosen to look at the therapist as a ride operator. Sometimes you just have to hand over the controls to someone else for a while in order to help things come to a stop.
I had a bit of an epiphany this weekend in terms of realizing that I couldn't get through this alone.
I found myself miles from home, camping with people I barely knew and a child who was testing my mental capacity with the upmost effort.
The moment came when David threw the biggest tantrum of his short life. Someone needed to move my car. With David standing next to me, watching the car inch away, the flip out began.
"DADDY DADDY DADDY!!!!!"
For ONE HOUR he sat by the side of the car not wanting me to touch or talk to him. His body was rigid and kicking. He was screaming and crying. Nothing I could do or say made it better. And I didn't have anyone to help me through it.
I wanted to break down and cry. I felt like I couldn't breathe and I realized there was nothing I could do about it. He needed to WANT my help in order to feel better.
Though I've recognized I've been depressed I never really acknowledged that I had to really WANT help for it. To me, WANTING help was somehow acknowleding that I was a failure and somehow damaged.
It's funny that it took my two year old to help put things into perspective for me.
Hopefully this therapist will help me realize that I'm not as pathetic as I think I am.