Oh, doctor appointments.

I had a doctor appointment this morning. Which honestly, is an accomplishment in it of itself. Last year when things were getting really bad for me, my therapist was starting to get kind of mad that I refused to go to a doctor. For some reason I just hate going.

Ever since I was a kid and my own complex medical needs got to be too much for doctors, I started getting frustrated and just resented going altogether. It seemed pointless, no one could figure me out, nothing would help, so why waste my time.

I still feel like that. My medical needs are complicated, just like my kids, and no one can figure us out.

A pill isn’t going to change my life circumstances, it won’t make me feel better…I don’t know. I guess I’m a little resentful about it all. Maybe frustrated is a better word.

There’s also definitely an element of fear to it. I know I’m an unknown. Things can and do go downhill very quickly for me. So when something new pops up….I’d rather ignore it than try to go down the path of talking about it and figuring it out. I’ve already had 11 orthopedic surgeries and have more lined up that I need… I don’t know. I guess I feel like I’ve already got too much on my plate and I just don’t need anything else added to it. And addressing my medical needs will definitely add to it.

Then there’s the questionnaires. Oh, how I hate those. I learned at a young age to definitely not answer those as honestly as I might feel. (At least in my case…I’m definitely not advocating for anyone to withhold information from their doctor! It’s super important to be honest!!!)

But for me, just because I a little bit want to die every day and am generally pretty miserable, doesn’t mean I’m going to do anything about it. So let’s just not cause problems and keep that information to myself. I do want to be honest. So I don’t know why I’m so afraid to be. I don’t know why I can’t just ask for what I need, what I want…

I can’t even admit that I’m “sad”. Why can’t I just say that? Why do I have to be fine all the time? What would happen if I wasn’t, if I admitted that I wasn’t okay?

I think, because I’m a mom, I feel like it’s so much more stigmatized. Mental health in general can be a touchy subject, but it feels so much more so when you’re a parent. I know this isn’t true, but I feel like if I admit that I struggle sometimes, people would question my ability to be a parent. And that isn’t fair or true. Probably half of the reason I’m struggling so much is because I put so much into my kids. There just isn’t enough time or energy left for me.

Before my therapist made me a few months ago, I probably hadn’t been to a regular doctor in like 5 years (besides OB and orthopedics and stuff like that). Anyway, I went, I did it, and I survived. I go every few months now, which honestly helps. Having a doctor on my team who I see on a consistent, regular basis could be a good thing. Maybe one day I’ll feel comfortable enough to be open and honest.