Monday, January 28, 2008

If At First Succeeding Is Not an Option...

Received the news today from a friend that it may be time for psychotherapy for me…so I am turning the idea around in my mind like an ocean pebble in a Tim O’Brien story.

When I was thirteen I went to one session with a therapist for suicidal issues, and my relationship with my mother improved to perfection.

When my mother died in 2002 it was suggested by physicians, at the time that I was prescribed anti-depression and anti-anxiety medication, that it would also be best to find a therapist to speak with. One of my friends was wary of this advice and offered to stand in the place of a therapist.

Which seems to have worked really well so far, Jo thinks sardonically. By the way, that friend doesn’t speak to me anymore, and, unless you are trained, therapy shouldn’t be attempted by just anyone.

Today I am going to call my insurer to see if I can receive any financial assistance for treatment, and then, if the first conversation goes well, I will contact the physician group that I am affiliated with and see what information they can provide. This may not lead to anything, but at this stage of the game I am ready to be well. I’ve been to the general practitioner, the dentist, the obgyn, the Breast Health Clinic, and the dermatologist. The exterior is nearly fully fixed, save getting in shape, which I have to work on slowly since I am coming out of the Accutane grip. But I spend about 70 percent of my time in dread—dread of the crazies on the street, dread of work (because I know that no one else will do it except me), dread of solitude from time to time, and yesterday, sadly, dread of going to teach. If the services I need are out of my reach, then I’ll have to keep wading through this, but I have to try everything.

Please abstain from commenting on this post or responding to it in e-mail with any advice. Support, however, is always appreciated. And cross your fingers…being mentally fresher would help my writing too.

Be well, dear reader.

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