I had my quarterly appointment with my psychiatrist today. My last appointment with him was in December, before my mom’s accident, though I did call him in early February when I was completely overwhelmed. I told him about all the things I’m handling right now: my mom’s physical, occupational, and speech therapy sessions; her medication and medical needs; making sure I give her enough emotional and physical support; keeping up with the workers comp paperwork; and, y’know, my full-time job. There was a long pause when I finished.
I’ve been seeing this doctor for over ten years now. He’s seen the very low lows of my depression and he, along with my psychologist, has watched me grow emotionally. He told me that he didn’t know how I was juggling everything, but he was really proud of me. It’s not the first time he’s said that, but it was definitely what I needed to hear today.