I had my first appointment with my new therapist on May 20th. Personality-wise, she made a fairly good impression. She appears to subscribe to a somewhat Zen way of thinking, which I like. Her office, though, is not exactly comfortable and that will take some getting used to. Lot's of mismatched materials and patterns going on with the furnishings and the room simply has no flow. How she can concentrate in that room is beyond me. I am aware that should be insignificant if this therapist can help me find my way out of this perpetual state of emotional torment but I have enough clutter in my head and it really is not helpful to try to find stillness and calm in surroundings that trigger anxiety.
My next appointment isn't until the 18th of June. Between now and then I will continue to try to implement the cognitive behavioral practice of dealing with my anxiety attacks, when prompted by a situation, by acknowledging the irrational thought(s) and/or fear(s) and attempting to assure myself that I am all right....over and over and over.
Sunday, May 29, 2011
On Hold
That's what I feel like. I am on hold. I am struggling day to day, going though the motions without really being there and waiting for my next (new) therapy appointment. At least this time I am certain I will be speaking with a therapist not a prescription pusher. I resent the last person I went to for telling me she felt I was suffering from multiple mixed mood disorders (Bi-polar disorder). That brilliant diagnosis came about a half hour into my evaluation. So here I am again, in a limbo of sorts and I feel so absolutely broken.
It's not easy to wait like this. I am waiting exactly one month to the day since my last appointment which I had waited a L-O-N-G twenty days to arrive. That wait was draining and to go all that time (in normal person time it isn't that long but during severe depression/anxiety person time it was a virtual eternity) only to find out I'd be receiving no counseling whatsoever was like being shoved back down after I just barely summoned the courage to stand.
The last few weeks have been fairly busy. Much more so than I have been up for, but I do just about everything I have to-never feeling my efforts are sufficient and feeling tremendous guilt over the things I don't accomplish. I know it's awful and lazy and inexcusable but I'd much rather be in bed with the covers pulled securely over my head. I'm sick of waking up each day wondering what is going to go wrong today?
Most night's I go to bed with an agenda for the following day and I try to psyche myself up to get things done but then the next morning rolls around and there I am, wishing I could turn the clock back another eight hours. It's not that I enjoy sleep. Maybe if I slept well and woke up feeling refreshed, which I have absolutely no clue or memory of what that feels like, perhaps I might not want to stay in bed. Physical pain, which is not a new symptom, and overwhelming fear, sadness and hopelessness make it so difficult to get through my days.
The new therapist appointment is May 20th. I am trying my best to be hopeful.
It's not easy to wait like this. I am waiting exactly one month to the day since my last appointment which I had waited a L-O-N-G twenty days to arrive. That wait was draining and to go all that time (in normal person time it isn't that long but during severe depression/anxiety person time it was a virtual eternity) only to find out I'd be receiving no counseling whatsoever was like being shoved back down after I just barely summoned the courage to stand.
The last few weeks have been fairly busy. Much more so than I have been up for, but I do just about everything I have to-never feeling my efforts are sufficient and feeling tremendous guilt over the things I don't accomplish. I know it's awful and lazy and inexcusable but I'd much rather be in bed with the covers pulled securely over my head. I'm sick of waking up each day wondering what is going to go wrong today?
Most night's I go to bed with an agenda for the following day and I try to psyche myself up to get things done but then the next morning rolls around and there I am, wishing I could turn the clock back another eight hours. It's not that I enjoy sleep. Maybe if I slept well and woke up feeling refreshed, which I have absolutely no clue or memory of what that feels like, perhaps I might not want to stay in bed. Physical pain, which is not a new symptom, and overwhelming fear, sadness and hopelessness make it so difficult to get through my days.
The new therapist appointment is May 20th. I am trying my best to be hopeful.
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