Waking up early Saturday morning, the only phrase echoing in my brain was “Change the dance! Change the dance.”
The firs time I saw a therapist I was in crisis mode. As my significant on-again-off-again friend puts it, the second time around was me throwing a tantrum to get some attention. Then he asks me if I discuss him in my sessions. I laughed. He hasn’t been a subject of discussion because I told my therapist that I had gotten rid of him. (At the time, we were ‘off’, in the last few days were are ‘on’ again.)
Changing the dace steps is a result of my reading The Dance of Anger by Harriet Lerner, Ph.D. I started off rather enthusiastically, then toward the middle of the book, certain truths were revealed and I became upset. It’s a reality I need to face: the desperation to change the dance steps of my situation that brought me to therapy this time around. I refuse to go back to normal, and continue dancing the same dance with them.
She asked me those typical questions about how I was feeling: How many days in the past seven days have you. . . . felt sad, mad, overeaten, wanted to kill yourself, etc. Well, all my answers stated pretty much two out of the seven days.
Weekends are rough. Keeping busy and having a purpose each morning to go to work gives me, well, somewhere to go. The weekends, however, is different. I do they typical running of errands and/or chores, laundry, but then the depression starts persistently.
My depression isn’t chemical but environmental, she said. (I’m allergic to people. No, not really). No, just to them, my jailers. I physically need to removed myself from the environment.
It’s revealed other areas of concern in my life. Some things that will eventually need to get addressed, but the recognition of it is plenty enough reasons to get me back to healthy and strong. And it really is an effort to shower, change and get myself out of the house on the weekends. I would prefer to stay home, relax, but I can’t. The housing situation is not healthy for me.
So I sit in Starbucks, earbuds tuned into my Pandora station and write.
Something such as “get out of the house,” “shower and change your clothes,” may seem simple, but when you’re suffering with major depression, it takes effort. And I need to learn to change the dance steps . . .within this relationship.