Thursday, October 23, 2008

Freudian Slips...

Merry Meet Friends and Lurkers!

Ok, so over the years, I have seen a wonderful therapist. She's a great lady whom I credit with getting me through some of the more difficult times in my life. One of the things I love most about her is that she doesn't follow the classical Freudian approach to therapy. By this I mean that some therapists will act as a "blank page" for their patients, allowing them to spill there hearts out while they take notes, but without offering anything in the way of advice.. What I like about my therapist is that she will actually react when something I tell her surprises her. So I know that if something I say elicits her "Oh.My.God" response, then the situation or person whom I'm describing is probably more fucked up than I thought and that she is just validating what I'd already suspected.

All this being said, several years ago, I lost several of my immediate family in an very short period of time. It was unquestionably one of the darkest periods of my life and even the best therapist in the world wasn't going to make dealing with it any easier. I admit, I didn't make it any easier on myself either. I was adamant that the grief was something that I needed to work through on my own. When someone close to you dies, you're supposed to be depressed, dammit!!!! For this reason, I vetoed any suggestion of medication. I saw absolutely no reason to have my mood "chemically enhanced", unless I had a guarantee that it would be something I would enjoy! And most of those things are illegal! I knew my therapist wasn't one to push medications and so if she was suggesting it, I knew she was concerned. I told her I'd consider it, if it would make her feel better. Yeah, I know how weird that sounds. She was relieved, but since I agreed to consider it, I would need to make an appointment with the psychiatrist in her practice since she was not authorized to prescribe medications. Before I could weasel my way out of it, she set up the appointment for me! I must have looked a lot worse than I actually felt!

On the day of appointment with my new "psychiatrist", I remember thinking how much less nuts I actually felt before I made an appointment to see a psychiatrist. I knew it was probably due to all the stigma surrounding mental illness, but that didn't make me feel any more sane. So now I'm getting into the elevator to go to his office and chastising myself for getting myself into this. I was NOT going to agree to any medications anyway, so I felt badly about wasting his time and my money! I was so preoccupied with my weaseling, that I never noticed the awesome man who happened to be sharing the same elevator. I didn't notice him, in fact, until he held the door for me. I wondered if he might be a patient, but then as I sat down in the waiting room, he walked through the door marked "Doctor's Office". After a few minutes, the door opened and there he was, this tall, dark, well dressed, gorgeous man with an accent that could melt the Siberian Tundra. "Tracy, I'm Dr. Z, please come in". If I was in a better frame of mind, my mood would have been immediately "enhanced", but instead I found myself thinking, "this is not my life!" Maybe I was more depressed than I thought!

So, now I sit down across from him. He had this lock of dark hair that fell across his forehead and he was wearing a funky tie that completely contrasted his beautiful suit and oh yeah, that accent! Funky tie not withstanding, I couldn't help thinking he would probably look better naked! Hey, it was a testament of my mental health and..at least I admit it! He began questioning me about what brought me to his office, how I'd been feeling and what he could do to help. A loaded question, at best! Obviously, a psychiatrist is someone you should be able to share the most intimate details of your life. I, on the other hand, found myself completely and uncharacteristically, tongue tied! How could I share anything personal with this man? He was maddeningly cute! But, at $250 for 45 minutes, I had to tell him something!!! I figured I'd blush less and appear a lot less crazy if I just stuck to the basic facts. I told him, "I'm here because my therapist is concerned about my well-being. She thinks I should consider an "anti-depressant."

Then it began..a sort of witty exchange. "Do you think you need an anti-depressant? To which I replied, "I don't know, do you?" "Do you exercise excessively?" My reply, "What do you consider excessive?" "Can I drink wine with an anti-depressant?" "Do you drink a lot of wine?" "Red or white? And what do you consider a lot?" Well, to make a long story short, we ended our first session laughing and talking about our favorite sushi restaurants. It was lighthearted, enjoyable and the best part, I actually did feel better. When my husband asked how my appointment went, I flashed a prescription for Lexapro, described Dr. Z and our session. He said , " That's just great! $250 and you talked about sushi?" Needless to say, he was not amused.

Well, after months of contemplation, I finally did take the Lexapro, which turned out to be one of the best decisions I'd ever made. And I still see Dr. Z about once a year, just make sure I'm still relatively sane and see if he's tried any new sushi places. Ok, I'm lying! At my recent appointment however, and after years of seeing him, I finally decided I should share something that I never told him before and so I told him I'm Pagan. I never had any reason not to tell him, it just never came up in conversation, but this was definitely as best a time as any to share. Well, he was in a word...shocked! I was blatantly amused! He's even better looking when he's shocked! He wanted details! "How long have you been Wiccan?" "What does your family think about this?" "How do reconcile your Christian upbringing" "What holidays to you celebrate?" "So you're a.....Witch?" :::insert seriously cute Russian accent::: "I want to know more of this Wicca!" I'm not sure if I approve of this Wicca!" And then the question I knew was coming, "Do you really believe you're a Witch?' To which I replied, "Um...I practice Witchcraft. What do you think that makes me?" Then, as he jotted down notes in his little book, he looked up and said, "Well Tracy, I find this absolutely :::insert really long pause::: fascinating! But, are there any other secrets you've kept from your psychiatrist?" Well...Doc...now that you mention it...


In darkness, light!



Tracy

6 comments:

Carol said...

You missed your calling you should have been a writer. A Witch too! I just love your blogs. Your psychiatrist sounds awesome. My doesn't even come close.

Unlike you, (sorry to say) I had no problem in taking the anti-depressants, etc. in fact I faithfully went there each month with another story!

Hats off to you girl for all that you have been through and for being so strong!!!!!

Tracy said...

Thanks Carol!

He's an anti-depressant all on his own!!!

I secretly enjoyed freaking him out...just to keep him on his toes!

Carol said...

by the way, did you hide anything else from him LOL!

Tracy said...

I'll need to plead the "fifth" on that, Carol.

However, my sister gave me a very wise piece of advice that I've followed ever since:

"Take it to your Grave" }:)

Carol said...

she was right there are just somethings that have to be keep secret!

Tracy said...

Well, "Keep Silent" is one of the basic tenets of Witchcraft :)