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Out of my ten years on anti-depressants and anti-anxiety medications, I spent 8 in therapy. I thought I was responsible by not just taking medication, but by proactively attempting to help myself. I was proud of myself because it had been lightly suggested that I go for therapy, but never really impressed upon me that I should go. I shopped around online, got recommendations, and did the majority of those 8 years with 2 people. I took a brief break and found someone new when the uncomfortable silences were continually punctuating the session and there seemed to be nothing to talk about for sessions on end. It turns out, though I do have a few neat little mantras to carry around with me from these sessions ( such as "I don’t live there anymore..") this was a major waste of time and money, and I can truly say that these doctors had no idea what they were dealing with and never tried to figure it out. I was not aware that there are many types of therapy out there, and each therapist has their own orientation. This is a major area where we need more public education & resources. It is an outrage that even though I was so depressed & dysfunctional I was so willing to help myself, yet I completely fell through the cracks.

I had always believed that I needed to forget about the past and move on, be an adult, stay focused, be greatful for things, be optimistic. Ironically, I beat myself up with this until I nearly killed myself. I had searched on and off for years for depression treatment centers and found that there really isn't that much out there. There are a lot of drug rehab and eating disorder facilities, but I never found a facility or a doctor that specialized in treating depression. I assumed there just wasn't a need for it; I must have been the only one who was suffering to the point where I couldn't take care of myself and spent most of my time wanting to die. Talk about feeling alone.

After I got off the meds, I was desperate to find inner peace and happiness. I started researching different types of therapy, and found out that there are many types.

**INFO & CHARTS GO HERE **

On my first meeting with my current doctor, she was floored that I never in all those years of therapy discussed my relationship with my parents. All those years in therapy, I was never asked about that, and so I never mentioned more than the fact that I separated myself from her almost 12 years ago, because I realized how toxic she is. In my past therapy I had discussed how guilty I felt about the separation, but we never delved into these early relationships or my childhood. In that first visit, the new doctor said that was where we were going to start. We were going to go straight into the depression and anxiety and discover the roots of it. I have never been so terrified of anything in my adult life. I knew I had arrived at the place I was meant to be.

It was a rocky first few months, but I kept telling myself that this was something I had never tried before and that gave me hope. I came to think of it as taking a closet that was organized with a youthful mind and ripping everything down off the shelves and examining it and then re-organizing it with an adult mind. After a few sessions, I began to feel much lighter. This terrible force that had defined my existence was changing. The doctor said we were chipping away at the base of my depression, instead of working on recent things, near the surface. After 2 months, I felt better than I ever ever had in my life. Not perfect, not where I wanted to be, but amazingly better. Then the holidays rolled around and my father came to visit. I began spiraling downward. It was different this time, though. There were reasons that I could actually express. There were helpful actions I could take. I journaled, I spoke with my doctor, I vented, I dealt with it head on. I came out of it. For the first time in my entire life I, MYSELF lifted my depression. I did not spiral down into that place that no one can reach me and nothing can help me. For the first time in 32 years, I had power over this terrible force that has always controlled me and nearly destoyed me. I came out of it, and have not gone back for many months. My doctor says she believes I will never feel that bad again, because I have resolved a lot of the roots of what was causing my depression. Some days are hard, it is a lot of effort to change your thought patterns and your behavior. But as you start, you become stronger and it becomes natural. I can't tell you the last time I thought about killing myself, the last time I felt hopeless or overwhlemed in a way that I couldn't take control of. I am up early every morning, I have even started running short races. I have friends again. I have gotten my personality back. I am peaceful and alive. I have triumphed. And now the little voice is saying, "I told you so...".