So, I couldn’t sleep last night. I was awake, worrying about the outcome of todays appointment with my shrink and a doctor. I got to the clinic feeling tired as hell, worried and stressed. I thought a lot about my mothers reaction when I told her that I was going to meetings at that clinic; she literally freaked out and called them incompetent bastards that gave away medication as a fix to everything, that turned patients into zombies. Her reaction came from her own “experience” with that clinic and my sister who went there for counseling, and got “drugged”. So, I promised her that I wouldn’t accept any medication from them. I talked with a doctor along with my shrink for an hour, trying to explain my troubles; the paranoia, suicidal thoughts, the self harm. I got diagnosed with moderate to severe depression, and received a prescription for anti-depressives, Citalopram. So from tomorrow and on, I will be taking it (in secret). I looked it up on the internet as soon as I got home, and found out to my kind of weird disappointment mixed with relief that I couldn’t OD on it. And I had to promise the doctor that I wouldn’t attempt suicide while I took the meds (if he knew what a filthy liar I am, he wouldn’t even have bothered). But I’m going to keep this promise! Not because of the doctor who I actually thought was an ass, but because of my shrink, Erik. I feel that I can trust him. I know I should feel better after this, and I kind of do. But the thing is, I feel ashamed and disloyal; I promised my mother I wouldn’t take any meds. But on the other hand, me taking meds is probably more preferable than me being dead. If I find a helpful effect by the pills, I bring her to therapy and tell her there; so I’m not alone if she decides to throw a bitch fit (her usual reaction to most things that are considered “serious”). I think telling my dad first, and begging him to keep it secret is the best thing to do. I’m considering telling my friend Nils too, I think he might be trustworthy. I’m getting tired of living a secret life anyway (though my secrets are the only defense I have), I feel the need to tear off the mask that I wear whenever I’m in public. Just hope that shit doesn’t leak. My worry at this point is the promise I made to the doctor. He told me that the first 2-3 weeks of taking the pills often make people feel anxiety, depression and suicidal much more than before, but to fade away after the first month is gone. I’m just thinking, that if I was at a breaking point this week, a real down trip into the underground of depression ( thought I was going to kill myself right then and there), then how is the first weeks of this going to feel? I’m just worried that shit will fall out of hand, and that I will act on impulses; Erik told me to call him if I had anything from mild anxiety to full blown breakdown, that I should alert someone if I was the point of committing. I feel good having the assurance of having support day and night if I need it, but I am scared of how the next few weeks will play out. Hopefully, this will help me get my live back. And if it doesn’t, then at least I tried.