Second Opinion

Today, I say a local psychiatrist. He evaluated the fact that I have two forms of depression, adult ADD, and societal anxiety. I have a hill to climb ahead.

The hill I must climb isn't steep, but it is long, and I need to avoid losing my grip on the true perspective. A large part of that is Dad. I haven't talked about him yet, but I need to vent my feelings so that they don't build up. After my appointment and Dad's arrival home, I told Dad how the appointment went and what the medication involved. Immediately, Dad's mind leapt into overdrive and landed upon the suggestion of using one of those little pill boxes with the compartments for each day. Now, I don't want to sound rude, but those are for old people... Let me explain. I have one pill to take a day for probably the next 18 months, and one pill to take for the next two weeks. I know I'm not the best at remembering things, but those tend to be used by people who need to take upwards of four of five pills a day, with perhaps different dosages on different days.

I guess, more than the fact that I have this stupid little pill container is how Dad handled the situation. He didn't ask if that would work for me or if I minded; he just bought it at the drugstore when we picked up the prescription. On top of that, while I was putting away some groceries, he went ahead and put the pills in the container and put the rest of the pills in the cupboard. Now it sounds like a petty little thing to worry about, but we havae had the discussion a number of times about my need to be more independent. Obviously, this does nothing for my independence and learning to handle responsibility. I know I am likely to forget and this is important, but the least he could have done is get my input and let me take care of it, even if he wants to watch me. I was always irritated in school when other students would finish a problem or puzzle of some sort before me (which, to be honest, wasn't all that often), and the child would shout out the answer or start talking about the solution. I want to be independent; I need to be independent. And while I don't want Dad to totally withdraw and leave me alone during this new period of the unknown, I do want him to be more distant from actually taking over my treatment and life.

And it's so hard to say anything to him because he always seems to haev a response that I can't come back to. Tonight, for example, I was going to take my prescription upstairs to my bedroom, and Dad said, "It might be wise to leave those down here." In other words, "They'd get lost or you will forget to take the medication." For a split second, I showed the slightest hint of anger. In a fraction of a second, I realized that I shouldn't be, that Dad was looking out for my best interests. At that point, I was willing to drop it. Dad wasn't. He noticed, as he usually does when I slip, and began to question me about it. After I answered, the dicussion became a lecture. Dad started rambling about the fact that this is so important (which is true) and that he wants to help me (which is also true), but I have heard the same stuff over and over again. It is a dictatorial tone, one without the possibility of choice and freedom. It's Dad's way or the highway. I may be a little skewed in my perspective, but that is how I perceive the way things are right now.

For those of you who stuck around this long, I will be taking Welbutrin to deal with my depression and ADD. Welbutrin is designed to increase a couple of chemicals in the brain that are deficient and cause a lack of motivation or anxiety or hopelessnessm when found in small amounts.