"So, after all of that, my doctor decided to prescribe me some cholesterol medicine. My cholesterol was little high and I have a a family history AND she thought it would help counter act the side effect of the Sertraline."
Rose, my therapist, smiled. "That is good. So you no longer are experiencing...uhm...you no longer have your...issue."
"Nope. It is back to normal. My doctor is pretty smart."
"That's good. What brings you in today?" She flipped through my chart. "You have not been here for a few months."
My chart, which was a brown folder with about 8 pages of hand written notes jotted down by Rose after every session. She never wrote anything down during the sessions unless it was a drug dosage or some other medical changes I was having. I always compared the amount of pages in my folder against the other folders that were placed on Rose's desk. My folder was by far the one with the fewest pages. That made me happy.
I always started each session with what I would call my disclaimer. I know other people have it far worse than me. I know there are many bigger problems in the world. I know my issues are small in comparison. I know I should not worry about the little things. I have it good.
Rose would always tell me that she understood but it was okay to talk to someone.
"I know I have not been coming in but I was having a good run for a bit." I said.
"That is good. I am glad to hear it. What has made it a good run?"
"Since I started on the meds and got some of the side effects under control I have been less worried."
Rose peered over her glasses."Less? Or No worries at all."
"Are the worries you are experiencing real? I mean are they normal worries?"
I smiled. "Yes. At least I think they are normal. It is not the Sharks."
"Are they interfering with your life?"
" No. I have not had any kind of panic attack in a while. I just made this appointment because I thought I should get a mental health check up."
"Okay. Great." She smiled.
We talked for the rest of the session about what I would consider little things. A few issues I had with other parents, or some disagreements with my wife. We talked about the dish sponge. Every night I would do the dishes but I would not put the sponge in the sponge holder. Every night my wife would get mad at me for leaving the sponge in the sink. The sponge was a bone of contention between us. I thought my wife should be happy with the fact that I did the dishes but she only focused on the sponge in the sink. Some days I would cook, do the dishes and then run the kids to basketball or something else. But if the sponge was in the sink nothing else mattered. The sponge took away any of her appreciation of all the other things.
I left the session feeling great. My medicine seemed to be working. Life was good.
That's the funny thing about Anxiety and Depression, just as things are feeling good, Anxiety and Depression will leave sponge in your sink.