After two years, Bob and I decided we were ready for children. We had Terrie in April of the next year, and I remember telling the nurse at my followup appointment with my ob-gyn that I was eating well, but it all tasted like sawdust in my mouth except for chocolate. I kept working, putting Terrie in day care at six weeks. I tried going back on Elavil, but I was drinking a six-pack of cokes a day to stay awake, so I stopped it.
And I started sliding downhill. I seemed to be prepared for parenting, and Terrie was an exceptionally good baby. But I couldn’t stand the thought of leaving her in day care for a job I hated more than ever. Then my agency was reorganized, and I was put under a new manager with new co-workers—and I met another guy.
He was four years older than me but single. He loved 80’s music and had a wacky sense of humor. And I couldn’t catch my breath and be in the same room with him. I didn’t know what was happening, but I knew it wasn’t good. I hated the job more than ever and didn’t mind who knew it. I had been searching for writing work and there just wasn’t any to be found. I remember my supervisor telling me, “You’re not leaving here unless we blow you out from behind that desk with dynamite.”
I thought, “I‘ll show you.” So I decided to start counseling to deal with this weird relationship in my head and my depression over my work.
My counselor diagnosed me with obsessive-compulsive disorder and depression. I started treatment with 100 milligrams of Zoloft daily from my ob-gyn for depression. I was in counseling for almost a year; I slowly got over my crush and learned techniques to handle what seemed like simple obsessions, with my counselor telling me that he had never seen someone who could resist compulsions like me. That was a point in my favor in my battle at the time—I escaped with my marriage unscathed.