After months of hiding it, my parents finally found out about me going to see a shrink this year.
Unfortunately as is usual in my household the circumstances of that discovery was not very good.
A few weeks prior I had requested a report from the doctor about the results of the treatment. Incidentally, the doc says I had dysthymia. Which was exactly what I thought it was. So how did Mother find out?
I told her.
This post has gone through a number of rewrites and I've decided to keep the details of the circumstances to myself. All I can say is now both my parents know what I feel about the things they do and that they should back off, for the love of God.
Now that they know, does it mean that things will change around the house? I would like it very much if it did but I don't think it ever will. Force of habit is very strong and to expect changes in the near future is simply asking for too much.
I guess things may never change at all. Perhaps that's just my fate, punishment for whatever unforgivable sin I may have committed.
I'll just get on with it then.
I got to thinking about the story so far, so to speak. If I were to write a book about myself, how would it sound like? I somehow feel that it would be a story of survival. Of making do with what is at hand.
So how would it end? Will there be a happy ending?
As much as I try to keep positive and be optimistic, I can't help but feel that the end would not be a happy one. I'm in my mid 30s now and I've only just begun to pick up the pieces. No thanks to depression and emotional problems.
When I was a kid, I made some plans and by my current reckoning, I'm about 10-12 years behind schedule.
I don't really feel sad about it. It's just like that, I guess. There's no longer any use lamenting all that wasted time.
It's not all bad though. At least I'm able to enjoy myself now without any unnecessary weight. Being free from misery and depression makes it all so much more worthwhile.
Like I said before, I only wished that I did it sooner...