I had an appointment with my counselor yesterday.  It lasted longer than usual, because she was running late, so she had my session run over to make up for the time.  She was running late because she had to see a lot o people.  It always tends to be a little busier on Tuesdays and Thursdays but today was much busier than normal. 


Tuesdays and Thursdays are intake days at the counseling center I go to.  Basically that means that whoever may have tried to hurt themselves or some one else or has a substance abuse problem and has encountered staff members at the local hospital, or sheriff’s department, or encountered anyone who is considered a mandatory reporter is ordered  to be seen at that practice at least once.  Because my counselor feels that to some extent I am still high risk, she likes to see me at least once a week.  Often she does not have anything available so I am given appointments on intake days.


Because she was running late, I had to sit longer than usual in the waiting room. It was a little difficult for me to sit there, with all the people I became very anxious.  I adopted my usual body language, arms crossed and no smile to discourage anyone from trying to talk to me.  I began to look around to see who all was in the waiting room with me. There was a group on the far side of the waiting room, where people wait when they are there to see the doctor.  Everyone in that group seemed to know each other and were having a very animated conversation.  On my side of the waiting room there was a lady who was around my age.  She was talking to one of the interns. She looked like she felt awful.  I could not help but over hear some of what she was saying to the intern.  I realized that she had very similar issues to me.  Even her body language was similar to mine. 


There was something about her that stuck with me, because after my appointment I was still thinking about her.  Finally, I realized what it was about her that had stuck with me.  She reminded me of how I was at the end of May, when I first started going there.  From how awful she looked, to her body language and how she was describing her anxiety and depression symptoms to the intern.  It truly was like looking in a mirror.  For the first time, I was able to see what I looked and acted like when things were at their very worst.


My family was caring and gentle enough to not tell me the truth about how bad I looked.  However, the nurse that I see at the counseling center, told me that when I saw him for the first time I looked awful and he was very worried about me.  I can see why now. The woman looked like she was walking on a very fine edge and was quickly becoming unbalanced.  She looked sad, worried and tired, very very tired.


I have been frustrated at times by the extra checking up on me that people, especially my husband, have been doing.  At times I have felt like I was being treated like a little kid.  However, after having had the opportunity to look into a mirror and see what I was like, I understand now why people have felt compelled to do those things.  They did not do them to intentionally make me feel as if I were a little child, but they did them out of love and concern because they could truly see on the outside what I had been like on the inside for a long time.


I am sure there have been other women in there who probably looked the way this woman did, but everything happens when it happens and how it happens for a reason.  Most likely the reason I did not see this in anyone else before is because I was not ready.  It certainly is a very heavy feeling to see yourself the way I saw myself yesterday.


I guess when I looked in a real mirror, I had blinders on.  I could see the bags under my eyes, and that I looked pale, but not really see what I actually looked like.  It is more than just what I saw in her face.  Her body too just had that sad, worried and tired look.  She walked like every inch of her was sore.  I am sure everyone has seen those commercials where the main line is “depression hurts”. I  have to tell you it does.  It seemed like I had an ever present ache in my whole body.  It never dawned on me that it would be visible to other people.


I am still trying to figure out what all I can take away from this experience.  At the very least, I think it gives me more of an understanding about why my husband is still very concerned about me.  I guess there are times when I am not having a good mental health day, that I probably look similar to that.  I think he knows when I am not having a good mental health day just by looking at my body and how I carry myself.  That explains to me why some days he seems very clingy.  Maybe what I need to take away from this, is that just like I am asking everyone to be patient with me, that I need to be patient with everyone else as well.