I went to see a therapist yesterday and tomorrow marks Day 1 of "healing." At least I like to hope so. The therapist told me I have depression. That word has always held so much taboo for me that in the past, when people suggested that I had it, I denied it immediately. But to hear a licensed clinical therapist say it, felt almost like a relief. A relief to know that 1) it's curable and 2) I wasn't being ungrateful for my life. I've just been in a sad state for a long time now.
And when I told my roommates and sister about it, they seem to have realized it for years whereas it came almost as a shock for me. Jeff thinks I have probably been depressed since my mom passed away when I was 16 and just repressed it for 10 years. Can something like that be held in for that long?
Well now I won't hold back anymore. I'll allow myself the freedom to fall, to be difficult and to be the person I probably repressed for a long time now. I wonder what she looks like. Is she caring and kind? Is she high maintenance? Is she selfless and brave? But most of all, is she happy? Truly happy? Can she be?
And I hope that as I heal, I can stop being fickle. I can appreciate the people in my life, the present moments that I often take for granted, and can grow in all the ways I thought I couldn't anymore. I don't want to just live a life. I want to fulfill this life that I was blessed with.
And then I want to bless other people's lives. I want to allow myself to be loved and not be scared of leaning on someone. And I want to win back Matt's love for me. At least, allow myself to be hurt by it and grow from it. I won't make the same mistake twice.
