Dr. do little or Dr. do a lot?

Today I had my doctor’s appointment. I wonder why I have this attitude prior to going to seeing him: “Another session with the doctor today” (with a big sigh of grief). I go into the situation with such trepidation. I really need to stop doing this. It isn’t helping my state of mind. I have to remind myself that I am paying for these sessions and he is a professional who is trying to help me deal with my issues. Of course, I’m pompous and arrogant. I think that I am too good for all this counseling and that I know everything he is analyzing before he has a chance to jot it down or say it to me. What a fool am I? Perhaps, I’m psychotic. Perhaps, I have two different personalities. They are always fighting and no one ever wins because it is truly what I am both of them. Ok ok, that was a bit weird: I am rambling, oh dear I do need a doctor don’t I?
 
On with what happened. For the past 4 months I have had to fill out an evaluation sheet (which is the same sheet each time) rating my moods. Most of you that suffer from any kind of psychological disorder probably have filled out this stupid form or something very similar. I know, I sound like I have a bad attitude. I think I do have one. I’m not quite sure why. Every time I turn in this sheet he reviews it with me and states that I have a mild case of anxiety and depression. He also keeps asking me if I would be willing to take some kind of medication to help my mood from becoming worse. I feel as if it is the same session every time I go to the office but, today I told him reluctantly that I will consider his offer and advice to go on something. I know the next statement that I will share is going to ruffle a few feathers but, I am going to say it because it is how I “feel” and not what I “know” about the subject.
 
Taking medications is a form of failure. I have failed at being superwoman. I have lost the battle of showing myself that I am a strong person who can overcome her own demons. I have failed at controlling who I am and how I feel. The walls I have built are crumbling down on me and the foundation I stand on is cracking beneath my feet. I have lost every sense of who I am because who I was, was a person who feared nothing, laughed at the thoughts of losing, and claimed what was hers by working hard to achieve it. Now that I have nothing to stand on, no walls to protect me, I fall from grace. I have given into medication, altering my whole being because I am so tired. Too tired to fight, too tired to stand, and just too tired in trying. I step down from that podium I called “my journey” to curl up and wither away. So, bring on the Prozac or whatever it may be…to make me not me.