I said "asshole" in therapy, but I'm all better now

I'm publishing this draft of a post I started a month ago, because tonight I had my last counseling session. Seems like a good way to honor PDub (best counselor EV).

Freaked out? If so, take your stigma-feeding judginess elsewhere. If you had a heart condition, you'd take medicine. I have a brain condition. Suck it.

For those of you sticking around, le post:

OK. So, background: I have been diagnosed with clinical depression. Sometimes it's hard to tell because it occasionally manifests itself as me acting like a complete jackass, and that's kind of how I act when I'm not depressed.

This is the second time I've been treated for depression. The first time I had postpartum depression and got medicated and then everything was sunshine sparkles or whatever.

I thought this time, since I didn't know what caused it and because new-doctor-who's-all-young-and-makes-me-feel-unaccomplished-by-comparison wanted me to have a consultation before she prescribed me anything, I decided to see a therapist.

This you should know: therapist is awesome, and I totally respect him.

Now the meds are kicking in, and I kind of don't have a lot to talk about. I mean, I don't feel like global warming is going to kill us all tomorrow, and I'm not having random crying jags because some asshole in Arizona left his Chihuahua on top of his car and the dog fell off and broke three legs but still spent three months limping his way back to his negligent owner out of love and the owner is overcome by guilt and petlove and spends thousands of dollars on vet care even though the Chihuahua is basically now just a sausage with one leg and freakishly large ears.

(I'm super insane, but I got a lot of empathy, yo.)

So, tonight, I told the therapist about some things I think when I'm feeling depressed. They have to do with obsessing over the things I said or did wrong when I was 11 or 15 or 22.

He was understanding and insightful and said maybe that guilt over these things I did years ago is one of those signs I need to learn is a symptom of depression for me, so I can seek help earlier if it comes up again.

Then I said, "Yeah, I guess you're kind of supposed to be an asshole when you're a teenager."

So now I have a new thing I said wrong to obsess over next time I'm depressed.

PDub is a good guy, and he gives good therapy. I'm feeling good about me.

I've learned in six sessions (with the help of a little SSRI - holla!) that depression has little if anything to do with my tendency to walk backward into people at cocktail parties (I'm just not charming, sorry) or my ridiculous habit of saying inappropriate things to my parents, as characterized by this conversation:

Dad: You have a headache, honey?

Me (washing back pills): Nope. This is my antidepressant and a birth control pill, because, really, if you're taking one, you should be taking the other.

Dad: ... 

So, my weirdness has nothing to do with depression. Depression just makes me feel bad about weirdness.

Now, I feel great, so I'm going to weird it up, SUCKAS!