I need to go to the doctor. I am going. I have an appointment on Tuesday. To talk about my medication and it’s lack of working anymore-ness (yes that’s a word now). But I still somehow hate it. All these years of doctors appointments, one would think I would be used to them. Just another day in the life-but they still manage to give me immense anxiety. It’s a gift and a curse really; I always write a lot more, and better, when I am having massive anxiety, depression, or OCD symptoms. But back on track: doctors.
I still have this irrational fear that I will be locked up for my insanity. That they will see right through my facade and say I am “unfixable”. Of course, in all these years that has never happened, and my rational mind says that it won’t happen, but it still lingers there. Generally, I go to my appointment with a normal-ish amount of panic. I sign in, complete this stupid survey/questionnaire thingy about what level of depressed I am, do I want to kill myself, etc., etc. Then I do the vitals and the waiting in a room for what seems like FOREVER. Then, of course, the doctor finally comes in annnnnddd, I lose it.
I almost always start sobbing or some other form of crying hysterically. It’s like the culmination of all the months (in this case a year…) hits me all at once and I see my doctor as my little green light across the bay (if you don’t know that reference we cannot be friends…). I just want him to fix me and all my problems. Make me “normal”. So I cry like a crazy person and pour my soul out about everything that has been running through my mind and everything I am feeling and that my medicine isn’t working anymore and then I take an obnoxious breath and blow my nose-loudly.
Now, being the expert that I am (disclaimer-no where near an expert), I feel like they see this type of thing all the time, right? Right? I’m sure I am not the only person who has ever walked into a psychiatrist office and just lost my shit, but it always feels like they are silently judging me. These doctors that (I imagine) have their lives together. With their PHD’s, and fancy cars, and nice homes (probably). What do they look at me and think?
What would anyone think? That I am completely mental and one-hundred percent unstable? Do they go through their days actually caring about their patients? Or ar they just in the business for the money? Or because people like me are so ridiculous that it’s amusing to them? Why can’t I just get up, drive to the doctor’s office, talk quickly about my issue, and leave? Like a NORMAL PERSON! Or do others do this too?
Anyway, that is my life right now. I have a doctor’s appointment on Tuesday, and I could not be more excited (insert sarcasm).