My Favorite Game
Yesterday I had my first “Mental Health” appointment. It sounds ominous, but I assure you, the entire ordeal was pretty tame.
Basically, I told my doctor a couple of weeks ago that I was suffering some severe guilt over my decision to have an abortion. I had however, neglected to tell her that I have been dealing with crippling depression my entire life.
This is something a primary care physician might not pick up on, but a mental health counselor most certainly will.
I could tell right away this lady knew I was full of shit.
She kept asking if I had ever thought of hurting myself and I kept saying “no”, but I also couldn’t look into her eyes as I said it. I noticed her scribbling intensely each time I answered.
She was on to me.
What the hell am I supposed to say?! If I answer “yes” then I run the risk of being committed for my own safety.
It’s a lose, lose situation. No wonder people don’t admit to needing help. I personally would rather just deal with my mental issues in the privacy of my own home without giant nurses strapping me into a bed.
Although giant syringes full of sleepy time meds might be a really nice perk!
I don’t know what will come of this appointment. I did not schedule a follow up with her, but she did push for me to see her colleague that specializes in obgyn issues.
She seemed to think that I could benefit from someone that perhaps knew about the entire abortion process and the hormones that go along with that instead of someone like her that only dealt with family/overall mental health issues.
I guess if she didn’t try to commit me to an asylum right then that she probably doesn’t think I’m too much of a risk.
I don’t know if I’ll actually do it, I feel like talking helped me in no way whatsoever.
I know I’m still messed up about things.
I know I should be more active and try to stay positive.
I know it’s OK to feel the way I feel.
So there, therapy complete!