"Reconstruction Site"

My walk home from work & from the pharmacy today

Today I saw a psychiatrist. When I woke up this morning, I got dressed & made my bed, fed my cat & cleaned his litter, and then went to the dining hall. I ate breakfast and grabbed lunch to-go. I walked to the bus stop, and took the bus to work. I stayed at the office for a while; during lunch the real adults who work there asked me how my weekend was, if I did anything fun. "Not really," I said, "just hanging out." One of the researchers gets a kick out of my vegetarianism; he asked, "What was the best vegetable you ate this weekend?" (Zucchini.) At three o'clock, I walked down the four flights of stairs and across the street to the metro bus stop. It was eighty degrees and it felt like it. The bus itself was cold, and every time I get onto a metro bus I wonder if $1.75 a ride is a rip-off or if it's actually a decent price. I got off the bus at the Fessenden stop, walked the one block up the street, and crossed over to the unremarkable building on the other side. I sat down in the waiting room half an hour before my appointment. I settled in with my phone and earbuds, and later was startled out of my music by an unfamiliar woman calling my name.

And then, I saw a psychiatrist. She asked, "What brought you here today, and what are you hoping to get out of this meeting?"

I struggle with depression and anxiety. I saw the official diagnosis on paper just over a year ago, but I've been on antidepressants and in therapy for three years. In hindsight, I was also depressed at age thirteen and at least one other time between ages thirteen and sixteen. (Here the psychiatrist said, "Yes, it's common for depression to start up during the teenage years.") Lately I have been having a very difficult time. I have been extremely unhappy, and it's becoming difficult for me to accomplish my obligations. I haven't been spending time with friends. I take a lot of naps when I don't need to, and I cancel on plans so that I can sit at home instead. My brain feels cloudy and heavy, and sometimes it feels like something heavy is sitting on my chest.

We can work with that, she said. She asked me some more questions, about past medications and allergies and if I like Georgetown, and then she asked, "So in terms of medication, what were you hoping I would say today? Did you want me to suggest changing the dosage of your current medication or did you want me to switch you to a new one?" I looked around her dimly lit office before I said, "I was just thinking that whatever you do, I hope it works."

Last week I met with a new therapist. I liked her. At one point for no reason I started crying. She told me it's okay to cry and to let it out; with my head in my hands I said, "I just want to feel better. I don't want to be miserable anymore."

Today I saw a psychiatrist, and she doubled my dosage for my current antidepressant and then prescribed me a second antidepressant. I took the bus back down Wisconsin Avenue and dropped off the prescription. I studied for an hour, called my dad, and then picked up my prescription. Tonight, feeling like the world was both sprinting past me and dragging slowly behind, I managed to get out of my dorm. I walked to the top of the Leavey Center and watched the lights of the university and of Rosslyn across the river. I stood there and looked out and felt so insignificant and miserable and purposeless.

And then, I thought that maybe, just maybe, I won't have to feel like this anymore. Maybe these new medications will work. Maybe tonight is the last time I feel this awful. Maybe I won't be depressed anymore. I don't expect to feel happy tomorrow, but maybe, maybe, I'll feel better than today.

~


From "Reconstruction Site" by The Weakerthans: "Throw away my misery, it never meant that much to me — it never sent a get-well card."