Just got back from the shrink's. He hasn't been a major support in my life so I didn't think he'd be able to do much to help me other than groan sympathetically. It's so weird how I pour my heart out typing to people I don't know, but when speaking to health care professional, I am pretty much going through the motions because I know he doesn't care one bit. I had my head down and my hand over my face the whole time, and was smiling behind it. Now what is that about? I sure wasn't happy. Maybe it was my utter contempt for him finally coming out in the midst of a real crisis. He actually accused me of "acting crazy", isn't that like a huge political correctness issue in his profession? When I told him how I didn't think I could live with my decision, there was a longer silence than we have ever had in that room, then he actually tsk'ed and muttered with a completely blase attitude, "What're you gonna do." Something a neurophysician should know never to say in that context to a potentially suicidal patient, as it led me to immediately have the most graphic and visual vision of myself I have ever had in his office or anywhere else for that matter, taking action, as it were, against my troubles. I know it was a rhetorical question but it triggered me to have those violent and self-destructive thoughts. Doctors are so insensitive.
Without hesitating I cut myself off emotionally from him and without mising a beat then asked him if he would still be able to prescribe me Xanax if I came to see the therapist. He said Yes, but he thinks I need to go back on the Zoloft to help me manage this. Sure, great idea, treat a broken bone with anesthetic. That way when it becomes unfixable and breaks off, you won't even feel it! I stared straight ahead and asked, "Is this depression?" He said, well, it might help you manage these obsessive thoughts. Since I try anything to rid myself of this fixation I guess I will be looking forward to unexplainable body chills, muscle twitches, and the feeling that I am losing who I am again, YAY!!
The last thing he said to me before introducing me to the therapist is that love can be like a kind of psychosis. Funny, I really thought there wasn't any difference.
I decided to hell with it and called her when I got home. One more day wasn't going to make a difference and this way if she didn't pick up I could still have a happy Friday. I defied the so-called experts and left a verbal apology instead of a handwritten note, as well as leaving a voicemail on the first call attempt. I don't care, I'm crazy! I think I left a good positive message and apologized for saying what I don't mean, that we had been through a lot already and it wasn't fair, and that I don't know why I showed her the worst side of me so soon, and expressed that I just want things to be light and fun like they were at first, that time was cut short for us, I'm still not ready for anything serious, still working through the issues, blah blah blah. I'm sure she sees right through me as usual.