Hello Dr. psychiatrist*

By Barbara Anderson

Insomnia. Anxiety. Lack of interest. Frequent crying. Loss of enthusiasm. Tiredness. Hopelessness.

With this cocktail in my body for months and seeing that my gray emotional brush was already painting my whole family with the same color, I decided to go back to my psychologist. 

He listened to me as best he could - cryingand talking never go well together - watched me finish his box of tissues, saw me with a tight frown, restless hands, an exhausted body and a mess that I couldn't bring myself to name. 

"You have depression. I can help you, but now you need a psychiatrist to support you medically with specific medications." 

Psychiatrist and oncologist are words that have almost the same specific weight... Or at least for me. 

I left the session and walked for long blocks with my eyes on the ground and a thorn in my side right where it triggered my tears. How bad am I that I need a psychiatrist? Will I go home and tell my family that I'm crazy, that they live with a crazy person? Will I be dependent on antidepressants for life? How can I not get through this by working hard, setting strict goals and going to my therapist once a week? 

I dreaded dialing the psychiatrist and making an appointment. I was afraid to go back to reciting my litanies to a stranger to find out what and give me pills for it.