How my Healing Began

The time has come for you to begin your recovery and healing process. I won’t promise it will be easy, but living the way you are now isn’t easy either. It is time to take care of you and to bring back as much of the real you as possible.

The damage done to you may have gone on for years, such as mine and many others and your road to recovery and healing those deep wounds will not come overnight. My severe chronic depression was responsible for me getting into therapy. Fortunately for me, Vic was my perfect therapist. I believe it essential to have a therapist help you through the healing/recovery state. It is important to have an excellent connection and rapport with your therapist. I suffered from “Trauma Amnesia,” (repressed memories of the abuse) and was initially seeing Vic for my depression. I was a widow still grieving and was stuck on the process of “death and dying.” My only son had left four months earlier to serve a mission for his church. I would not see him again for two years. The only time I could talk to him on the phone was on the major Holidays. When he left, I slipped into a deep depression and became suicidal. My boss at the time just happened to be a psychologist (teaching); and he told me one day he felt I really needed to see someone about my depression and recommended my therapist, Vic.
I would come home from work, if I made it to work and sit on the edge of my bed and stare at the wall for sometimes hours and simply weep. I had never drank in my life until my husband died in a drowning accident while we were on vacation. He worked for a beer and wine distributor, and out of kindness his office sent me home a case of wine. I began drinking a glass of wine at night and it quickly turned into drinking a 2-liter jug of wine every night. Instead of having 5000 things rushing my mind; I only had about 500. I would eventually pass out and that was an improvement over staying up all night crying. I was well on my way to being an alcoholic.
While I was extremely nervous and not wanting to go see a therapist—I forced myself to go. I would have a couple of shots before I could enter the building where my therapist was located. I know now that he was more than aware of it, but knew it was the only way for him to see me. Vic immediately sent me to a psychiatrist to be put on an anti-depressant and I was finally on my way to recovery. The psychiatrist told me I would be on an anti-depressant the rest of my life. A difficult thing for me to hear—I didn’t want to take medications for the rest of my life. But, I got over it when the anti-depressant kicked in and I began coming out of the deep depression. Of course, both doctors warned and pleaded with me to stop drinking while on the meds. I told them okay, but I didn’t stop for years to come.