Progres Riport #1
First of all, Yum Yum is on my bed, stretched out on the shirt I wore all day today, with her nose pressed into the underarm where I've been sweating all day. Indeed the minds of cats are strange strange things.
Piemur has gone home to his Mommy and Chumley seems convinced this means that he Drove Off The Strange Cat. Chumley had to put off going to NJ for another month because my Mom scheduled her life rather badly for a person who said that taking him back "would be no trouble."
(I still went down to NJ by way of NYC and
lynnmonster because we'd already bought tickets for Down to the Bone when I found out His Nibs wouldn't be welcome at Chez Mom after all. So I said fuck it and did the drive anyway, and it all worked out pretty well. Well, except for my slight freakout on Monday which I'm sure tiredness didn't help any. But up until then it was really a good weekend.)
I had an intake interview with a mental health provider approved by my insurance today -- on my cellphone in the courtyard of my building by the fountains, which seemed private enough at that time of day. I figure if running water is good enough to baffle spy equipment it wasn't like anybody sitting in the medium distance could hear me. (And it wasn't like I was exactly shouting personal information, anyway.) I know you can't exactly "fail" these things but I started out nervous anyway. Um, maybe anxiety is something that I should be working on, yes?
But in its way, it was reassuring, because I had a lot of "nos" when we went down a list -- no (or 'little' depending on what threshold you define it as) substance abuse, no paranoia, no suicidal ideation, no self-injury....
Her: Do you, or have you had, hallucinations?
Me: Not that I know of....
Her: laughs nervously
Yeah, I'd be really fine, if it weren't for all the unhappiness, and a corresponding inability to figure out how to change things so that I am happier.
So now they're submitting the insurance information and assessing my case and they'll get back to me regarding what treatment they can offer -- I guess I'll have to hope that the pebbles I've send rolling down the hill sets off a favorable avalanche.
(Or that I get a therapist who doesn't mind hearing about Fraser and Ray, and how much Hugh Dillon likes carrots. Because they're metaphors, really. ::nods::)
Piemur has gone home to his Mommy and Chumley seems convinced this means that he Drove Off The Strange Cat. Chumley had to put off going to NJ for another month because my Mom scheduled her life rather badly for a person who said that taking him back "would be no trouble."
(I still went down to NJ by way of NYC and
I had an intake interview with a mental health provider approved by my insurance today -- on my cellphone in the courtyard of my building by the fountains, which seemed private enough at that time of day. I figure if running water is good enough to baffle spy equipment it wasn't like anybody sitting in the medium distance could hear me. (And it wasn't like I was exactly shouting personal information, anyway.) I know you can't exactly "fail" these things but I started out nervous anyway. Um, maybe anxiety is something that I should be working on, yes?
But in its way, it was reassuring, because I had a lot of "nos" when we went down a list -- no (or 'little' depending on what threshold you define it as) substance abuse, no paranoia, no suicidal ideation, no self-injury....
Her: Do you, or have you had, hallucinations?
Me: Not that I know of....
Her: laughs nervously
Yeah, I'd be really fine, if it weren't for all the unhappiness, and a corresponding inability to figure out how to change things so that I am happier.
So now they're submitting the insurance information and assessing my case and they'll get back to me regarding what treatment they can offer -- I guess I'll have to hope that the pebbles I've send rolling down the hill sets off a favorable avalanche.
(Or that I get a therapist who doesn't mind hearing about Fraser and Ray, and how much Hugh Dillon likes carrots. Because they're metaphors, really. ::nods::)

no subject
If things are mostly in order, it actually may be the best time to go ahead with a few sessions. I found that the fact that I went and did therapy when I was only having a moderately hard time--rather than at the point where things had completely falling apart around me--made things easier, even though I wondered whether there really was any need at one point. There was, of course--and like any other health stuff, earlier was better.
I hope they put you in touch with someone quickly, and that it all turns out to be helpful!
no subject
Her: Do you, or have you had, hallucinations?
Me: Not that I know of....
Her: laughs nervously
Snerk!
no subject
Good for you for taking care of yourself before it gets too bad!
no subject
And just in case, Hugh is on his way to you now *G*.
no subject
no subject
Also, your cats sound too cute!
no subject
I'm glad you're seeking help. Therapy can be a good thing, really. I'm a firm believer in it.
no subject
You are giving me courage.
no subject
The first time I ever called to see if I could make an appt with a counselor, my HMO told me I could get one in eight weeks. I was devastated, and agreed to drive 30 miles extra to see someone sooner, but they wouldn't have even offered that if I hadn't objected.
My husband, otoh, was so pissed when they told HIM that, that he bitched until they gave him an appointment the next DAY. My only conclusion was: it depends on whether you sound like you're going to kill yourself, or somebody else.
no subject
Good luck and the other important thing about therapy is realizing that you need it and that you picked up the phone and did something about it.
Hang in there, and Yum Yum's Twin, Jerrie sends purrs and confidence to both of you.