I think that there has been only one other time that I started to cry in the waiting room.
It was my first appointment.
I sat in the chair stuffed in the corner by the lamp that never stands straight.
My sweaty hands tucked securely in between my crossed legs that shook uncontrollably.
I could feel the tears clinging to the bottom of my lashes then rolling off effortlessly like dew drops from a petal.
There was simply not enough fight in me to keep what I had hidden for weeks.
Pain exploded out through every breath I took.
It pulled me somewhere foreign where the world’s beauty was muffled by a thick dark veil.
I felt still amongst ugliness and there was no way out for me at that point.
It was either give up entirely or give in to the process.
That day I chose to give in and willingly handed over my soul to a psychiatrist.
I trusted that he would fix what had come undone.
In the waiting room,  I cried for my life that day.
4 years later, as I sit in his waiting room chipping away purple polish from my nails, I have those same painful tears held loosely by blinks.
I kept my head tucked down into my neck so the woman with the watermelon boobs and the woman with the beautiful grey sweater wouldn’t see me.
As I finished stripping my thumb nail bare, I contemplated just letting it all out, laying it there on that fucking stained carpet.
Perhaps they would have listened to me and encouraged me and supported me.
Perhaps they wouldn’t.
But I do know that they would have understood.
I walked into his dimly lit office and eased my way onto the couch.
He strolled in shortly after and before he sat he asked how I was.
Words, thoughts and emotions collided and all I could muster up were these simple three words:
“I’m not ok.”
It wasn’t screamed.
It wasn’t explained.
“I’m just not ok.”
With those three uttered words, I knew that the intensity of my internal disaster became invisible.
I gave up trying to verbalize how I truly felt and left his office stepping back into the storm alone.
I just wish that when I say that “I’m not ok”  people will know that this is my scream for help.
And sometimes I wish that my psychiatrist could see my fractured mind just like a fractured bone on an x-ray film.
He’d know exactly how to fix it without me having to say a word.
I am crying for my life today.
And I’m giving in.
But I’m not giving up.
Ever.
*We’re working on medication dose changes. He reminded me to email him when ever I felt that I needed to talk. I know that I should really do that more.
I do hope you start to do that more: email or call your doctor. I’m sorry you are still so distressed but I’m glad you’re working on dosages and still making yourself talk about it, even if “I’m not ok” is all that comes out. Sometimes that’s enough. Hold on.
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Sometimes a “I’m not ok” carries an avalanche of feelings with it, even when there are no other words.
Keep holding on through those dosage changes.
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I am glad you are writing, I am glad you are communicating.
Even if you can only say those three words, it makes all the difference in the world. I have never been more bummed that I can’t come over to give you a great big hug. Love you Kim. xoxo
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I wish that for you, the brain xray, because “I’m not ok” should be enough sometimes when you’re working so hard to find your way to the surface. xo
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I hear you Kim. I know that people don’t want to hear me complain all day but sometimes I worry that I am doing such a good job pretending that they will actually think that I’m okay– when I am so not okay! I wrote a similarly themed post recently too…
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Whenever I mutter those three words, I always hope the person on the receiving end will pull me into their arms and actually DO something about it. I just don’t know what they CAN do. My doctor keeps telling me not to give up, there’s more drugs out there, blah blah blah. I’m honestly tired of hearing how I’m “not alone”. Well geez, it made me feel better back in the day when this was just PPD and I was going to get better. Now that I’m scarred for life with this fucked up illness, knowing that I’m not alone doesn’t do a damn thing for me. I won’t tell you it will get better and all that shiz. Just know that I’m here. I’m in the same boat as you and I’m paddling like a mother fucker so we can get to shore without sinking all the way. We may be up to our necks in much but we’re together.
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I’m an inch away from flying to Canada to hold you. Oh Kim. Don’t give up, please don’t ever give up. Please talk to me whenever, ok? xo
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Hello, my lovely friend. I feel ya! Whenever I muster those three words, I wonder if A) loved ones will actually know this means “I need your help” or B) they just don’t know what to do to help me or C) they think this is something I need to get through on my own.
To me, it makes sense that “I’m not okay” means “HELLO!!! I’m freaking NOT okay and I need help!!!”
Luv ya, my friend. You know where to find me if you need me
XOXOXOXO
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Do it more. Reach to him when you need to.
I know you aren’t giving up – because I can still see the healthy you in your writing. The illness never hides your brilliant mind. Hugs xoxo
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I know about that “thick dark veil” and how it feels.
I’m glad your psychiatrist is encouraging you to reach out to him – and you know you can do that with me, too, ANYTIME -
xoxox
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No giving up allowed.
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Keep your sights pinned to where you want to be and you will get there. Promise!
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I just want to give you a hug, Kim. Don’t give up. Never give up. I know that’s so easy to say, but I’m not sure what else to say. You are so beautiful and have so much to give this world. You’re not done yet. We’re not done with you yet. So don’t give up. Ever.
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I feel so helpless reading your post. I wish there were something I could do to fix things for you, but I know I can’t. All I can do is let you know that I’m rooting for you to hang in there and beat this; to find your way out of the dark. Definitely don’t give up. Hugs.
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“I’m not ok”. Such a powerful sentence. It might be hard to believe, but I’ve used that sentence before, and it was everything I could do just to get it out of my mouth. No,it wasn’t the same circumstance as yours, but hard….very hard, nonetheless. I didn’t get my message through to the receiver, but I’m going to try again, I promise. You inspire me every time I read your words and feel your honesty. Big hug, my friend. Keep communicating. Scream if you have to. XOXOs
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Maybe emailing would be easier because you could put into words exactly how you’re feeling instead of trying to get the words out
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Hang in there, baby girl. The right thing will come. You keep fighting. Just keep talking, screaming, crying if you need to. And yes, email him. Use him. I really wish that I could hand over the answer and take the pain away.
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I hope the doctor can figure out your dosage, because it sounds like you are in so much pain. Love you. Hang in there, you can do it.
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Sometimes the fight against becomes too much, too hard, too overwhelming . . . the only way to survive is to give in . . . that it have this battle. The key is don’t let it have the war.
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I’m sorry, Kim. I always say this but you know I’ve been there. I so have. I’ve been the one crying in the waiting room because I couldn’t hold it in until I got to the doctor’s office.
Just hold on. People are on your side. I certainly am and have dealt with dosage changes more times than I care to count. I’m rooting for you to be OKAY.
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I hope that you do reach out more to him. The other day I texted my counselor when I was having a hard time & she called right back & I just cried to her. It helped get some of the anxiety out. I know I am not dealing with the same thing you are but you have an entire community of people who care about you here too. It breaks my heart to know you (& others) are hurting like this. Hang on & never, ever give up. Sending lots of love & hugs to you.
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I hope you realize that you’re not alone. There are many many people out here who genuinely care about you.
As for me, I’m hopeful that they’ll get this sorted out and you’ll come out of this with the right dosage.
Communicating your fears and worries with the doctor is a good idea Kim, it might be a relief.
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Oh I hope those medication changes work for you soon. And I’m sorry. Saying “I’m not okay” should be enough, I know. (I struggle with depression and I too wish there was something like a brain xray. It seems so unfair that getting the right treatment is so hard sometimes.)
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oh, sweet girl. i am so sorry. you are not alone. so many people love you and carry you on their hearts. i wish i could give you a big hug right now. i wish i could come help you with your to do list. i wish i could make it go away.
xoxoxoxo
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Just sending a huge virtual hug your way…it’s so hard sometimes, I know. This life is definitely not easier and hoping something works out to make it at least a little less hard…
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I hope you can get things straightened out and to a good place again. And yes, make sure your doctor is listening to you and that you are using him to help you the best he can.
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flaming thundercunt
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DON’T GIVE UP! DON’T GIVE UP! DON’T GIVE UP!!! Thinking of you and praying the doc can fix your dosages QUICKLY. (((HUGS)))
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Keep crying, and most importantly, keep communicating. When you can accept your psychiatrist’s help with regard to phone calls or emails. When you can’t, vent your feelings here and know you will always be supported. ALWAYS! There are so many of us who know EXACTLY how you feel. Big hugs. xx
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You have so many people who are here for you. There is never a moment that goes by when people are not lined up to support you. I know I have been a bit MIA lately with all the drama overtaking my life, but, I am here for you! Send an email, a text, a tweet… I am just a few keystrokes away. Pick up the phone and call. I will answer. I am NEVER too busy for you. You are my love. xoxo
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I kind of have an idea of how you feel.
Years ago when I was horribly depressed, in desperation (no health insurance or regular doctor) I went to the Emergency Room for help. But I was too embarassed to really open up to a complete stranger about how I felt. So the doctor told me that there was nothing they could do for me there, and then literally laughed while saying ‘it’s not like you’re suicidal or something.’ What an arrogant assumption…he had no idea. I don’t know how I lived through that time.
I’m praying for you and sending you vibes of strength and healing. If you need someone to talk to, please email me.
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Oh Kim. I wish I could take this away for you. Listen to the doctor though and email him. Maybe that will be easier to get the words out. I’m here, if you ever need anything, even just to cry or scream. xo
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This is a fight worth fighting, and yes air it. Get the feelings out whenever you need to!
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Hugs and chocolates and more hugs to you, love. You are putting up a great fight, and you will win. So glad you are talking.
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hang in there girl, when you’re at the bottom the only place to go is up, you WILL get through this.
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Nope, no giving up, girl. So nice that you can email when you need to- make sure you do! xo
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My heart is with you girl, always.
Never give up, one foot in front of the other, ask for help, you are loved.
So, so very loved.
xo
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Babe. Use him. And I’m here. And so many of us are here. You are not broken. You are loved. You are needed. xoxoxoxo
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girl how far are you from NYC? the border isn’t that far right? if they’ll let me by without a passport, imma give you the biggest hug ever. i can’t tell you how happy i am, even as i sit here with tears in my eyes, that you won’t give up. so happy.
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Honey, I hate this for you. Too much too long.
I know the inside of your head is screaming and I’m glad it’s coming out here. We are here. Keep writing.
We are here.
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I’m so sorry and my hearts goes out to you. Never give up. In just reading through all the comments here, there are so many people who are rooting for you and who love you. Never give up.
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Kim, It looks like from the myriad of comments that others were as drawn to this post as I was. So eloquently written. I wish others could hear “I’m not okay” and get it. Get the agony behind those words, the effort it takes to get them out and how hard it is to express any of it when you hurt so bad.
I wish, but I can’t change it. Know I am here, I get it and I appreciate you soooooo much.
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I have never been thrilled with the psychiatrists I’ve seen apart from their direction concerning medicine. They’re useful for medicine, but not for baring the soul. I’ve only had success with therapists when it comes to getting it all out. The psychiatrists are competent, medical, clinical – that’s all. The therapists listen and dig.
That’s my experience. Sending you hugs.
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My nephew recently had some issues and wow…if a young kid says he’s “not ok” {or worse} it’s incredible how quickly they get uhelp. Don’t get me wrong…it’s a good thing. But with that said, why not the same for an adult who is struggling and perhaps ashamed or having difficulty expressing how they feel? I think we’re expected to somehow be able to deal.
I hope he listened. And got it.
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