Over the weekend, I was feeling put-upon. I felt that I had somehow become the underdog – that should carve a big S into my head because I felt as if I was being told what to do by everyone.
I have felt like that before, but it was very strong over the last few days.
That, combined with a general feeling that my life was falling to shit (as I feel every few weeks) and that, despite my efforts over the last few years, there was no tangible improvement and that there was not going to be a tangible improvement ever, convinced me to go get help.
So, yesterday, I went to a doctor, described my feelings, and was pronounced Depressed.
I am now on happy pills. The doctor told me that it should not affect my work. I hope so. It’s very important to me. I have avoided the idea of taking anti-depressants for a very long time because I was not sure how they would affect me.
So there it is. The docs agree with me that there is a “problem”. I somehow feel better just knowing that!
I’m due for a proper clinical meeting by some head-shrinkers within a month, then I’ll know what classification of mad that I can be filed under.