Rachel's Story - Accepting the Diagnosis

Someone asked me this week how I originally accepted my diagnosis. On the one hand, I was very RELIEVED when I was diagnosed. I remember how good it felt to finally have an explanation for the way I felt. It took away some of the shame and embarrassment associated with the dark feelings I was experiencing because I finally had a name and a reason for what was going on inside of me. And perhaps most importantly, I realized that there were others who were going through the same thing. I WAS NOT ALONE.

On the other hand, I was (and still am, sometimes) ANGRY. Why me? All I could see were the ways in which my life would have to change. From now on, I would have to be more careful about my sleep, constantly watching my moods, taking meds, participating in group therapy, seeing doctors regularly, having regular blood work, etc. When my mood starts to slip, my psychologist encourages me to do my “homework” (work on thinking patterns) and sometimes I just get so tired of it, I’m desperate to be “normal”. All of the effort involved in keeping myself well seems totally overwhelming and, on the bad days, I resent it.

How do others feel?