might not know about me...

<strong>Talking About Going to a Psychologist/Psychiatrist</strong>

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... ;)