Well, at some point or another I had to seek professional help. I don’t feel like going into details because 1) it is boring 2) I don’t want to remember all the reasons why I went to seek help. But between you and me, I thought knowing how I hate to take medication, that I would throw his prescription in the first trash bin I find in this residential Parisian street of his.

This morning I had to chose what to wear. I know a depressed person shouldn’t be thinking about that. But I am happily depressed. I believe that self-care can do me some good so I try sometimes. I try mostly for my husband and children. I hate being around me, and I cannot imagine sometimes how they must feel. I am tired 75% of the time (on a good day) and complaining the rest of the day. But anyway I decided I will get dressed nice and put on some makeup. I don’t need to look like shit, I already feel like shit – excuse my french.

So google map in hand, depressive flamenco songs in earbuds, rainy day as a perfect background for this misery I am about to face, and off I go to visit Dr. P.

I rang the bell, and as promised Dr.P came out to greet me. To the waiting room I went, and of course being me I don’t want to look like am depressed, or that I am a patient (or is it client these days?). To cut the story short Dr. P did indeed confirm that I am depressed. He indeed confirmed that I have a chemical imbalance in my brain. Good I have a brain I thought! And the not so good news was that I have to take medication to end this already crippling state of mind I am in. He said that my recent health issues will get better. He said I will get up on my feet. He said it does not matter to know what triggered it. He said we will talk when I feel better – and you will he promised.

Got to pick up the children from school.

More to follow