I had a check-in with my psychiatrist yesterday. My last appointment was in the middle of May, so I had a lot to catch him up on. He said it was nice to see me happy and he scheduled me out for three months, which is a good sign. Before Mom got really sick, I was seeing him quarterly and after things got rough, he started seeing me every other month, before going to every five weeks since Mom died. The fact that he’s extending the time between appointments means that I’m stable and doing well and I am grateful.
I’ve been seeing him for 13+ years and he’s had a huge part in helping me manage my depression. I was, for lack of a better term, a 23-year-old hot mess when I started seeing him and he’s guided me through many, many breakdowns. I like to think I’m a least a little more put together now. I know I’ve made great progress and I’m proud of that, especially since I once thought I wouldn’t even make it to high school graduation.