I'm saying this because I need to put it into words... I need to admit this, to confront this.

You don't need to read this.  You don't need to respond.  You can if you want, but it isn't necessary.

I'm a therapist.  I'm damn good at what I do.  I have ten years of experience in the field and three graduate degrees directly related to my field.  I'm not just good - I am phenomenal.

I met with my physician yesterday and told him I am off track.

I told him the only medicine I've been taking is my heart medicine - because if I don't, I have symptoms.  No thyroid medicine.  No diabetes medicine.  No medicine to protect my kidneys.  No depression medicine.  No anxiety medicine.  No allergy medicine.  Nothing else.

I told him that I'm not well.  That was really hard to admit.

I confessed to him that I haven't seen a therapist in the last ten years.  I told him that - I know this is illogical - but I have convinced myself that since I have extensive training and experience in the field, what they're going to do isn't going to work for me.

I know it's not true.  Every therapist has different skills, different experiences.  More than that, I know - in the very core of everything that I am - that the single most important factor in patient response to therapy is the patient-therapist relationship.  Not the therapeutic approach.  Not the techniques. 

He asked about my support system.  I told him I don't have one.

In 2009, I moved across the country by myself on a bus.  I have a husband, but we've been separated for about the last four years.  And that's why I'm really here... at least, sort of.

After the first few years, our relationship wasn't great.  He became emotionally distant from me and, ultimately, I cheated on him.  As a result of my infidelity - however distant it may have been - we ended up separating.

There's no excusing what I did.  There's also no excuse for what I'm doing now.

For the last four years, I have been punishing myself.

I loved him.  I defined myself by my relationship to him.  I still do.

Telling my doctor yesterday how deep my depression is - telling him that there is no antidepressant to fix what I feel - telling him that I am punishing myself... it forced me to admit it.  And I know it's true... I've known it's true all along - but I've never admitted it before.

I have no social support system.  All my relationships are professional.  I am the lead counselor - I direct a team of 10 other counselors across two schools.  I provide guidance and mentorship.  They are "friends" but they're not really *friends.*

I haven't left my apartment in two months.  I haven't showered in two weeks.  I couldn't tell you when the last time was that I brushed my teeth.  Yesterday, the *only* time I got out of bed was when I had my tele-health appointment with my physician.

I'm moving tomorrow.

I took off Thursday and Friday to clean... and instead, I lay in bed.

I get up to go pee, to poop, to get food or something to drink.

I am actively - if not consciously - punishing myself for being unfaithful to my husband... for being a coward, for not standing up for our relationship when I had the opportunity.  For letting him down.  For letting me down.

One of my co-workers is an athletic trainer; last year, he tore his meniscus.  He told me that it was difficult for him to acknowledge that he couldn't fix the issue.

I'm in the same boat.

I'm a therapist.  I am supposed to have the answers.  I am supposed to fix the problems.  I am supposed to teach the coping skills.  I spent fourteen years in college to become the absolute best.

And now, I have to admit that I'm too close to this situation to fix it.  I have to rely on somebody else.

I see my doctor in-person in two weeks.  I've made an appointment to see a psychiatric nurse practitioner on November 4th, and now, I'm going to make an appointment to see a counselor.

I have to forgive myself.  I have to let go.  I have to stop existing and start living again.

I know I deserve better.  But what I know and what I feel - I just can't make them match.

Yet.

I have to remember those three letters.

I remind the kids I work with of that all the time - *remember the power of YET.*  Just because you aren't there doesn't mean you won't get there.  Just because it's difficult now doesn't mean it will always be difficult.

I haven't forgiven myself ***yet****.*  I haven't let go ***yet***.  I haven't started living ***yet****.*

But I'm alive... so there's still hope.

I hope.