It's been a really, really long day for me and I apologize for not getting to this sooner. I wanted to update you on how my first *solo *therapy appointment went today.
I have been managing my depression pretty well for most of my life. I take my meds and talked to our longtime family therapist when I feel the need. Lately, that hasn't been enough.
Those of you who've been around for a long time can probably tell when I struggle more because it impacts my writing.
I've had a few concerned readers urge me to get my own therapist but what I was doing at the time, was working for me. Having said that, I've struggling more lately and after hearing what everyone had to say and talking it over with the wife, I decided that I would give it a try. Today was my first appointment and it went pretty good.
The psychologist I'm seeing was actually my abnormal psych professor in college. I was a forensic psych major and he not only taught me but advised me as well.
It seems like it's going to work out pretty well.
I spent this session just bringing him up to speed and I didn't realize how much shit I've been through. There were many things brought up but two of them were the most difficult.
The first thing that eats away at my soul is Gavin. Having to watch him continually decline and struggle in pretty much every aspect of his life is killing me. This is a rabbit hole for a different day though.
I've never spoken to anyone about the second thing because *very *few people would ever understand. This has to do with my time as a firefighter/paramedic.
Some of the things I've experienced as a paramedic especially, have scarred me in many ways. I don't want to go into details but while I've literally saved countless lives over the thousands of runs I've been on, it's the ones that I couldn't save that stay with me.
I can remember the faces of every person that I couldn't save. It's the children though that truly haunt me.
There are three calls in particular that broke me. Between my back injury, the need for me to be home and simply not being able to take anymore, I quit.
One of these involved an elderly gentleman who had been fighting with his wife because she called 911 and he didn't want to go to the hospital. The last words he said to her were in anger and before he passed away, he told me to tell his wife how sorry he was and that he loved her. I was never able to do that because we had to leave before she arrived.
The second involved a teenage girl walking across a busy interstate type rode. She was hit, run over by several cars and dragged down the rode before the car was stopped.
I won't say much about that, aside from it was the most horrible thing I've ever seen in my life and even though there absolutely was no hope, we worked her all the way to the hospital. We were there when her parents arrived at the hospital. I will never forget the sound her mother made when she saw her daughter.
I'm wiping tears away as I'm writing this.
The third was actually the final call that I was on before putting that part of my life behind me. It involved a little girl, about five years old. She was playing in her front yard when a drunk driver went off the road, through the front yard and ran her down, before fleeing the scene.
I remember almost being able to make out the license plate because her whole torso was a giant bruise in the shape of the front bumper of the truck.
That was the last call I can remember being on before I just couldn't do it anymore.
I know that's a lot to process but this shit is kinda just flowing out of me right now...
Anyway, aside from depression, PTSD was brought up once again.
I'm really tired and emotionally spent. I wanted to share this before going to sleep because it will likely help me to sleep, as well as give you a bit more insight into me.
