I call my parents nearly every day. Thursday I called and I spoke with my dad, and then called back later and spoke with my mom. And then I did it. I told on myself.
The conversation started off with my mom inquiring about why they put me back on an anti depressant. And without skipping a beat, my mouth just blurted out “Because my depressive states have been really low, so low that I have had suicidal thoughts.”
I generally keep all that a secret. The only people I tell are you, my readers, because you have been there, done that, and got the tee-shirt. And my pdoc, because I like to be as honest as possible during my appointments so I can get the proper care. I shy away from telling family and friends because I don’t want “special treatment”.
My mom then immediately asks is my husband knows about this [suicidal thoughts]. I tell her no. And then she jumps my case because he needs to know, because you know, someone needs to know these things and keep an eye on me before it’s too late. *eye roll*
Don’t get me wrong. I know she cares, and that she worries about her baby. I get that. However, I don’t want someone watching my every. damn. move.
So, I tell my mom I will mention it to my husband and leave it at that. Of course I have no intentions on saying anything.
Later that afternoon I speak to my best friend. We were talking about our parents, and I told her “Yeah, mom jumped my case because I haven’t told B. about my suicidal thoughts. Can you believe that shit?”
“Um, why is this the first time I am hearing about this?” my bestfriend gawks.
I did it again, I told on myself.
So we talked about it, and she chews my ass out because well, my husband needs to know. So someone can keep an eye on me when I’m depressed, so I don’t off myself. Because I have far too many people that need me in their lives.
I get it. People care, and I appreciate it. But in the throws of depression that is not how you feel. You all understand that. And I take great comfort in that. And as I have tried to explain to my mother and my BFF, I’m not sad about anything in particular when these episodes hit. It is just the nature of the disease. And I totally understand that, even so while in said episode. I have a plan if said episode should hit again. Make use of that crisis line. And knowing what I will do, is a step in the right direction.
So after two people tell me I NEED to tell my husband, I decide, well… maybe I should. So I did.
I explain that I didn’t tell him because I didn’t want him to feel like he did something to make me feel this way, I didn’t want him to feel like he had to “fix” me, I didn’t want him watching me like a hawk at every moment of the day… all truths.
He tells me a joke, about a woman who is talking to her ex, and she tells him that she is depressed. He asks her if she wants him to send a dick-pick. She grosses out and says NO emphatically. And then he says “See now you are no longer depressed, you are disgusted. You are welcome!” So my husband says he will ask me if I need a dick-pick next time I’m depressed. And that made me chuckle. Not because I find my husband disgusting, but because he actually gets it. He understand that I need my space, I told him and now he is aware. He knows there is nothing he can do to change the situation, but if something goes horrible awry, he can and will do something.
Meanwhile, my mom is messaging me on the daily from her trip to Disney to make sure I’m not depressed, to see if my meds are working yet, and to tell me that she loves me. I appreciate all of it, even if it is a tad bit annoying. I know it is all coming from a good place.