Deb, my therapist, and I parted company today. It was bittersweet. I've really enjoyed her a lot, and she enjoyed me, so there were hugs and she asked me to keep in touch and to come back if I felt I needed to talk again.
I was so lucky in getting her as a therapist. I remember when I had my first appointment back in December. I had made an appointment with a woman I had picked at random. She was young and thin and blonde. When this short, chunky, middle-aged brunette came out into the waiting room to get me, I was confused, but I figured one therapist I didn't know was as good as another that I didn't know.
We bonded instantly.
I had decided to talk with a therapist to help me deal with my response to my mother's dementia, and also, to a lesser degree, come to some peace with all the losses in our lives over the past few years.
Just getting it all talked out was a tremendous relief. I don't really have a sounding board in my life, except for Char, who is too far away to chat with most of the time. And getting the opportunity to say everything I needed to say to someone non-judgmental was a tremendous help.
She also started me on an antidepressant and suggested I might just stick with it indefinitely. It has made a 1000% improvement in my mood overall. I'm taking the lowest dose and I noticed within a week that I wasn't so morose any more, nor have I been since then. I also started taking my other medications, which I had not been taking, regularly again.
The other problem I had with meds before is that I was reluctant to take them because of the low grade nausea that I seemed to have all the time. But for some reason, there has been no nausea at all this time, so I don't even think about skipping my meds. And as a result, my blood sugars have come down significantly.
She said today that she noticed a huge change in my attitude. Where I had been very down and internal, now I seem to be up and external and that was a good sign. In truth, we might have ended our session at the last appointment, but I decided I wanted to see her one more time to show off my new bald head. She wants the St. Baldrick web site URL so she can donate, which touched me tremendously.
She has short spiky hair herself and I told her that when my hair gets as long as hers, I'll try that look and see if it works for me.
After I left Deb, I drove to Atria to drop off my mother's laundry, which I had picked up and washed the day before. I didn't know what reaction I was going to get when she opened the door, but she opened the door and said "Oh. You got a haircut. It's very short."
Sigh. Better than acting like I'd tossed dog feces at her face, I guess!
Someone visited her this week and brought one of those metallic coffee mugs, which I found on the floor next to the chair where I always sit. I asked who had come to see her and, of course, she didn't remember anybody and said she assumed the cup was mine. When I said that it was not, she thought maybe Jeri had left it, though Jeri won't be here until tomorrow night.
So I don't have a clue who visited her and that always makes me sad because to hear her tell it, I'm the only one who ever comes to see her, and I'd like to find who else does! I know Ed does, but he's down to about once every month and a half now because he's found out about the drive I used to make 3 times a week for many years!