Had an appointment with Doug today. It was very run-of-the-mill, until I brought up the whole depression thing. I confronted him on whether or not he “believed” in it, or if he thought it was an excuse. Many people think it’s an excuse, actually. I was one of them.

He nearly looked affronted when I asked him why he never brings it up. I mean, here I am coming off a two-month “bout” of it, and he never even brought it up. I think trying to hide it from him, or at least not present the issue to him, was making me tired. That’s usually when I’ll bring something up with someone. When it’s making me too tired to continue to hide from it.

He commented that I tend to run in steady cycles of denying it when I’m in it, and then realizing I was in it when I’m out of it. His point was that it’s nearly ridiculously pointless to bring it up unless I bring it up myself. His hypothesis is that if he does bring it up, we end up going ’round and ’round about whether or not I am in the downward part of things, and the conversation is pointless.

Fair enough, I said, after a bit of contemplation.

So, he asks, do you think you’ve hit bottom yet on this cycle?

My gut reaction? “What are you talking about? I’m not depressed now.”

I didn’t say it. I nearly bit my tongue off, but I didn’t say it.

::sigh::,

michelle