“That sounds like depression to me.”

I had an appointment with my psychiatrist this afternoon, right after my last appointment ever with my psychologist. (I cried; no surprise there.)

I guess I was all cried out by the time I got there so was just like “bleh” and reported that I’d been having nightmares, that my energy was better but my mood was worse, and that I’d cried at work. He asked a bunch of the standard questions — how is my appetite, sleep, what had I been up to, etc., and then when I thought I was going to be off the hook he asked “how strong are the suicidal thoughts?”

I am a crappy liar so I squirmed uncomfortably and said “I don’t know what to say to that,” and I could feel him looking at me even though I was looking at my knees, so I said “Look, I know you’re all about Life at All Costs but it’s not like it would be a loss to anyone,” which actually did make me tear up. Then he said something about how he didn’t believe that, and I said “of course you don’t!” and he said “you don’t think your family would miss you?” and I was like “yes, of course they would, but they would get over it, just as families of friends of mine who have lost a sibling to suicide have gotten over it” and he said that people never really got over suicide, that they always wondered what they could do differently, and I said that was supposed to be the point of this Big Christmas Visit (which probably wouldn’t work anyway, but whatevs.)

Really I was thinking about it being (or not being) a Loss To the World, like “we’ve lost one of our brightest minds!” versus “she did spreadsheets, now we will have to hire someone else to do spreadsheets” — I wasn’t thinking about my family in particular. The fact that there would be collateral damage is regrettable but unavoidable.

Anyway, he replied that it sounded like depression to him and I said “yes, of course it does! I grant you that sounds like classic Textbook Depression Thinking but that doesn’t mean it isn’t actually true” and told him my intention was to do the best I can for as long as I can, so if I can face 2017, I will, and if I can’t, I won’t, which was letting more slip than I had intended.

He asked if I’d had ECT (yes, and it was like Ernest Hemingway, and I’d make it illegal for everyone for all time) and then mentioned ketamine again. Apparently they do it at his hospital.

He decided that I should stop the “Skrillex” as it is expensive but didn’t seem to be helping, and wrote me a prescription for more lithium and a lab requisition. Then he said he’d like to see me next week, and walked me out to the appointment desk and took his appointment book from the receptionist and found a time a week from tomorrow.

That whole Walk to the Desk is him being worried that the receptionist might say he didn’t have any openings, I think. I have read blogs online that say people would never go for treatment if they were “really” suicidal, and that is bullshit. For me, I want to know that I did my best.

So now I’m sitting in this crummy pharmacy because they said there would be a 45 minute wait and if I go home I won’t go out again to pick this up. I realized I haven’t eaten today (although I am not feeling hungry) so I thought I would go across the street to the Starbucks to have a delicious carb-full Turkey and Stuffing Panini, only to find they have no panini and no seats. So I came straight back. There are schwarma places and donair places within a block from here but I just was not motivated to go anywhere when I’m not hungry in the first place.

So I guess we’ll try more lithium for a week and see how that goes.