Butterflies/The Great Big Step

I went to Granby last saturday night, to spend an evening with my mother. I needed to talk about what's happening, about what I've been fearing. I needed to establish a plan with the person who was constantly there when the darkness came back. To talk about it, we did. I came back to Montreal the next morning actually having hope of things getting better.

The plan was for me to go to the clinic on tuesday morning (as it was my first whole day off) and explain the whole thing.

Yesterday, I felt very very happy. A bit too happy. It's usually a sign that I will dip down again when I get a sudden burst of elation and energy. This morning, I overslept and missed portuguese class. I woke up feeling totally lost and empty, wanting more than anything else to have a car run over me instead of just getting on with life. So I modified the plan: I would go to the clinic today, not wait any longer.

I go there around 10am. The morning is already full, I'm told to come back 2 hours later, which I do. I get there, wait 2 hours and finally get to talk to the doctor. I was fearing this. I actually was scared when I knew that it would be my turn soon. My turn comes, I'm called in the office.

Once in, doctor introduces himself, shakes my hand. Motions me to sit down and asks me what brings me there. I take a deep breath and I begin telling the whole story. I explain everything matter of factly. He asks me a couple of questions, I reply. Takes my blood pressure, checks for other things. He writes me a prescription for the medication I was last on and tells me to come back in two weeks, to check on if everything is working, if the dosage is right, if I'm tolerating it well. I feel I'll be in good hands. That, in itself, is a total relief.

I called my mother while walking to the drugstore, to update her on what is happening. She seemed relieved too. Now, it's diagnosed and I will be followed. It means the great big first step has been taken.

I'll be okay soon.