When I called this past Monday about making a psych appointment, I was given two options.
Option A: Go to the main campus of the hospital system I’m currently using for my healthcare and wait for many hours in the ER.
Option B: Wait until September 11th, the first available appointment for a psych evaluation at the smaller and much closer office building.
Since I’m not currently experiencing a mental health crisis, I decided on option B.
Mental health is a precarious thing. It reminds me of a teeter-totter. It goes up and it goes down, sometimes so quickly that you’ll lose your balance and fall on your ass with a loud thud.
It’s not that simple getting help, as you can see from my options up there. Either I am in serious trouble and need assistance right NOW or I have to bide my time until I can be evaluated.
I can tell you what I need, a decent therapist.
I need to talk about what I’ve gone through the last few years with someone who isn’t too close to the situation. This time around, though, I won’t follow any doctor(s) or therapist blindly like I have in the past.
Perhaps I’ll even allow the doc to give me a booster med that is specifically used for major depressive disorder. I know that I want to stay on Effexor, because without it, I’d be curled up in the fetal position on I-71 South towards Columbus.
A strange thing happens when your trust has been broken numerous times by people you once thought had your back; you begin to follow your instincts and tap into your own shitty experiences instead.
I’m hanging in there.
I miss my mother dearly and I cry often. It hurts not having her to talk to and share news with her, good and bad combined. I’ll start to think about those last few days before she died and how she didn’t even look like herself lying in that hospital bed on comfort care. The sound of her breathing, erratic and desperate. Even while actively dying, she didn’t want to let go.
All I can do is continue to move forward. I want to make her proud of me and keep on living my life.
And that’s why I need to fight back hard to stay put on that teeter-totter and try not to fucking fall off.