I have this urge to write some sort of a magnum opus about navigating the mental health system through the lens of my experience. I'm not really sure that the lens of my experience is really magnum opus worthy or what the point of the opus would be.
I suppose what's going on is I'm trying to digest my near break-down over the weekend, or whatever not sleeping and calling my therapist, doctor, and coworker frantically outside of business hours was. Maybe freakout would be more accurate. I suppose what follows could be a first draft of my opus, and a very rough incoherent one at that.
I did go to my doctor Monday as I was unable to see anyone Sunday. My doctor gets horrible reviews on yelp, yet for some reason I really like him. I find him to be one of the only approachable doctors I've ever interacted with. In any case, when I went to see him on Monday I was able to navigate my way into getting a benzodiazapene prescription to help me sleep. I felt kind of proud of myself for manipulating the situation. Manipulating may be too strong a word, but I figured out what to say to get what I wanted. This isn't a skill that comes easily to me. Again, my doctor is comparatively easy for me to deal with, so I can't give myself too much credit.
Immediately after going to the doctor, I went to see my therapist. It was the weirdest appointment I've ever been to. Somehow I felt like we were much more at ease and upfront with each other, which was weird. Perhaps this is a good thing in the therapeutic relationship--to actually be upfront and banter a bit more, be less calculating in word choice.
What was weird was better being able to read my therapist better. I sensed some firmness with me at one point, some surprise at one of my stranger obsessions, and some concern. I told him I'd be out of town next week and he said that skipping last week (due to a holiday) didn't seem to work out so well for me. We picked a another day I would be in town next week. I agreed, but nonetheless I felt weird he said it.
I also was asked to explain my insomnia issues, what drug I got from my doctor, how much and when I was supposed to take it, and whether I saw my usual doctor or not. It all felt very clinical to be discussing these things with someone who I share my weirdest thoughts with. He took careful notes, in response to which I asked, "So, this is going in my file." He responded, "I'm the least of your concerns." There's something unsettling about your nuttiness being on paper, especially when it it's actually nutty and not just mild neuroticism.
After the appointment there was additional weirdness. (I feel like this blog post is just turning into a list of things I feel weird about. Okay. Whatever). I felt weird about my and my therapist's conversation on Sunday and how so much went unsaid when we talked about it on Monday. On Sunday when I frantically called him he said that I could get something for my anxiety or insomnia, but that I really ought to go for an SSRI antidepressant--it would help me with the anxiety and the OCD as well. I was in a bit of state of desperation, so all the resistance I could really muster was, "well, I'll have to think about that one." I didn't really ask what I wanted to know, which was what are the merits of long versus short acting benzodiazapenes or how to avoid getting addicted. The phone call was also meant to me a sort of heads up (so obviously I was going to be asked about it later, see above). I guess what I wanted wasn't really thought out. On Monday, he asked what the outcome of my appointment was and I told him firmly that going on antidepressants was not something I was going to consider at this time. In hindsight, that statement was a bit milder that how I really feel about the topic, which is I do not want to take antidepressants ever. I do not think they work and I do not want to fuck up my brain with them. Honestly, I feel more or less the same way about benzodiazapenes, so don't expect 100% consistency from me on that topic.
What was weird was I never really got to explain why I thought what I thought or even that I thought he was giving me bad advice. Of course, his response was totally to be expected, particularly given the Luvox notepad I saw on the first day and the YBOCS form with the Lexapro logo from my second session. (I didn't know psychologists were bribed by pharmaceutical companies. When did that happen?)
I feel strangely about the therapeutic relationship. My therapist is supposed to give me advice and I am supposed to follow it. But what happens when I don't trust the advice? Admittedly, my therapist is a psychologist not a pychiatrist, so psychopharmacology isn't something we need to see eye-to-eye on. Nonetheless, when you don't fully trust someone, you spend a certain about of energy filtering what the say. On some level, though, this is an inevitable part of any human relationship.
I'm just feeling confused about therapy. It's so strange, so entangled with all of our modern lies.
I suppose what's going on is I'm trying to digest my near break-down over the weekend, or whatever not sleeping and calling my therapist, doctor, and coworker frantically outside of business hours was. Maybe freakout would be more accurate. I suppose what follows could be a first draft of my opus, and a very rough incoherent one at that.
I did go to my doctor Monday as I was unable to see anyone Sunday. My doctor gets horrible reviews on yelp, yet for some reason I really like him. I find him to be one of the only approachable doctors I've ever interacted with. In any case, when I went to see him on Monday I was able to navigate my way into getting a benzodiazapene prescription to help me sleep. I felt kind of proud of myself for manipulating the situation. Manipulating may be too strong a word, but I figured out what to say to get what I wanted. This isn't a skill that comes easily to me. Again, my doctor is comparatively easy for me to deal with, so I can't give myself too much credit.
Immediately after going to the doctor, I went to see my therapist. It was the weirdest appointment I've ever been to. Somehow I felt like we were much more at ease and upfront with each other, which was weird. Perhaps this is a good thing in the therapeutic relationship--to actually be upfront and banter a bit more, be less calculating in word choice.
What was weird was better being able to read my therapist better. I sensed some firmness with me at one point, some surprise at one of my stranger obsessions, and some concern. I told him I'd be out of town next week and he said that skipping last week (due to a holiday) didn't seem to work out so well for me. We picked a another day I would be in town next week. I agreed, but nonetheless I felt weird he said it.
I also was asked to explain my insomnia issues, what drug I got from my doctor, how much and when I was supposed to take it, and whether I saw my usual doctor or not. It all felt very clinical to be discussing these things with someone who I share my weirdest thoughts with. He took careful notes, in response to which I asked, "So, this is going in my file." He responded, "I'm the least of your concerns." There's something unsettling about your nuttiness being on paper, especially when it it's actually nutty and not just mild neuroticism.
After the appointment there was additional weirdness. (I feel like this blog post is just turning into a list of things I feel weird about. Okay. Whatever). I felt weird about my and my therapist's conversation on Sunday and how so much went unsaid when we talked about it on Monday. On Sunday when I frantically called him he said that I could get something for my anxiety or insomnia, but that I really ought to go for an SSRI antidepressant--it would help me with the anxiety and the OCD as well. I was in a bit of state of desperation, so all the resistance I could really muster was, "well, I'll have to think about that one." I didn't really ask what I wanted to know, which was what are the merits of long versus short acting benzodiazapenes or how to avoid getting addicted. The phone call was also meant to me a sort of heads up (so obviously I was going to be asked about it later, see above). I guess what I wanted wasn't really thought out. On Monday, he asked what the outcome of my appointment was and I told him firmly that going on antidepressants was not something I was going to consider at this time. In hindsight, that statement was a bit milder that how I really feel about the topic, which is I do not want to take antidepressants ever. I do not think they work and I do not want to fuck up my brain with them. Honestly, I feel more or less the same way about benzodiazapenes, so don't expect 100% consistency from me on that topic.
What was weird was I never really got to explain why I thought what I thought or even that I thought he was giving me bad advice. Of course, his response was totally to be expected, particularly given the Luvox notepad I saw on the first day and the YBOCS form with the Lexapro logo from my second session. (I didn't know psychologists were bribed by pharmaceutical companies. When did that happen?)
I feel strangely about the therapeutic relationship. My therapist is supposed to give me advice and I am supposed to follow it. But what happens when I don't trust the advice? Admittedly, my therapist is a psychologist not a pychiatrist, so psychopharmacology isn't something we need to see eye-to-eye on. Nonetheless, when you don't fully trust someone, you spend a certain about of energy filtering what the say. On some level, though, this is an inevitable part of any human relationship.
I'm just feeling confused about therapy. It's so strange, so entangled with all of our modern lies.
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