might not know about me…
Talking About Going to a Psychologist/Psychiatrist
Well, some might or might know about the year I spent going to a Mental Health clinic where I saw a psychologist for most of the session and then the psychiatrist came in at the end of the session… much like you see a nurse for most of you doctor visit who does all of the dirty work and then doctor comes in and prescribes the medication after doing a little examination, if any at all.
It started during my senior year of high school. To put it bluntly, I wasn’t happy. Not in the least. So, I went (to all people) to my manager at Food World, Mrs. Haynes and talked to her. It wasn’t that I couldn’t talk to my parents, because I could, it was that I wasn’t sure how they would react. After talking to Mrs. Haynes, she told me that she undertstood and told me that there are options but that I should go home and talk to my parents. So, I did. We decided to make an appointment with the Madison County Mental Health Center. (I don’t remember either of my therapists names now, but I do know that they were both extemely good looking ladies. Married, of course and too old for me.)
I went in for an evaluation. I was diagnosed as “clinically depressed.” The pyschiatrist put me on Prozac. I attended sessions, I believe were every other week. I shared some of my “poems” with my psychologist and that became a regular part of our sessions. I would write what I felt in poem form. These poems weren’t exactly great but they got the point across. She would read them and then ask me questions about why I wrote what I did an why I felt that way. This was a nice way to spend 30 minutes of my day (yeah, all of 30 minutes). At least the office was clean. Lots of pictures of her and her family. A pleasant place to tell somebody why I felt the way I did. (And dammit, I was attracted to her… probably in her 30’s, wore really nice clothes, normally skirts when the weather was warm, stockings, high heels… things I seem to like in the way women dress…). Now, that you know that, I’ll go on with the rest of my year.
I eventually decided that the Prozac wasn’t really helping. I didn’t really notice a difference other than I had somebody to talk to that wasn’t my parents. I learned that when I feel down and in the dumps, that writing seems to be very theraputic. That’s why I continue to write until this day. I haven’t written much lately because I am so busy with work and going to the gym and spending time on the internet or playing video games or watching TV. Ways to keep myself entertained.
I, then, decided that I no longer wanted to continue therapy. I felt relieved and good. I finished out high school and continued to work. Depression has been something that has continued to follow me through my life. I don’t feel compelled to go back to therapy or take more pills. So, I may struggle with it from time to time and I hope that you, my friends, have some understanding.
So, now you know… and knowing is half the battle… 😉
