I am anxious about my appointment to see the psychiatrist on Thursday.
Why am I seeing a psychiatrist? Well, when I went to speak to my general practitioner about getting on an anti-depressant, I freaked her out by being honest. Not my normal sort of honest where I leave more scary bits out to make me sound like I'm better off than I think I am, but totally honest. Like I wrote before, it freaked her out.
After our talk, she left the room to call the psychiatric department to get me an appointment the next day and then gave me a number to call as soon as I got to my apartment. I called the number and it turned out to be the emergency psychiatric help line and the woman I talked to started out by trying to convince me to head up to the psychiatric center and getting a room, there, for the night. After explaining myself to her, by telling her the same things I told the GP earlier just more slowly, she agreed that I could stay in my apartment as long as I'd go and see the psychiatrist the next day, which I had already told the GP I'd do.
I went. I told him the same stuff that I told the other people the day before. He wanted me in a group situation. (I went to a class the next week. I signed up for a group that starts in January.) He set up an appointment for me with him for this Thursday.
This time, I have no idea what we're going to talk about.
I have nothing new to say.
I don't feel or think anything different after four weeks of it.
Will it just be a waste of a co-pay?
I know, it'll be what I make of it, right? It's up to me to turn this into something positive for me, right? It's a fucking choice that I have to fucking make, right?
I'll see what comes.
It's what I do.
I go to sleep. I wake up. I go to work. I leave work. I go to sleep. And I see what it was.