Part 6 - Pre-Diagnosis

"For A Pessimist, I’m Pretty Optimistic" - Paramore

My parents marriage has always been rocky to say the least. What with my Dad’s emotional stiltedness, and my Mother’s concise little ways, I’m sure they’re not the best pairing Cupid ever made. On leaving the Royal Air Force, my parents were forced to spend more time together than they had since they were teenagers. This did not create good prospects for a happy household. They had always tried to leave me out of their marital debates, but by the time I turned 13 my Mom was confiding in me as though I were her friend, not her daughter. I didn’t need to know a lot of the intricate details of their personal lives, and, although I was glad to offer my Mother the support she needed (and to often vocalise my Father’s side of the arguments when he wasn’t around to do so himself), it wasn’t long before my teachers began to notice the change. A once bubbly and out-going child, turned into a sullen and exhausted one.

I entered therapy for the first time. My parents were shocked, and slightly bemused, but this is what I suppose the teachers felt best for me once I was asked and had explained the circumstances of my home-life. It wasn’t really steady therapy, and I don’t think it helped much at the time, as I always tended to focus on the little things and not look at the "big picture". I did, however, learn about C.B.T. for the first time, and my fascination of psychology was born.
I don’t think I’ve ever met another depression sufferer other than myself, who has a genuine medical curiosity about her disorder, and others of it’s kind.