Sometimes It Gets Old

I don’t know what “normal” means, exactly, but I imagine it involves not having to scan through a list of names trying to choose the one you will trust with your most intimate information – ultimately basing the decision on more or less nothing, because what do those listings really tell you? So sometimes I think I’d like being normal, or at least a chance to try it out.

I “fired” the therapist I was seeing. I just couldn’t find a connection with her. I’m also in the process of trying to find a psychiatrist, since I recently moved. I’m really dreading that initial appointment, where you sit down with a total stranger and review your entire life’s shitty history. If I wasn’t afraid of sudden withdrawal from the medications I take, I don’t think I’d bother at all.

I’m tempted by the idea of going therapy-free for awhile. It would certainly be more convenient, not having to adjust my work schedule around weekly appointments. Also, it would be a break from the regular dread and anxiety related to going in to an office to chat about myself. But that’s probably just the same old desire to avoid everything – a big part of the reason I ever started therapy in the first place.

What I want is to be cured. To just be a person who’s out in the world, someone who can survive out there. Sadly, I’m not sure just pretending I am that kind of person will actually make it true. Plus I have a lot of upcoming changes and I could probably use some support.

I know I’m really fortunate to be in a position where I can even search for a therapist. I know I should be focusing on my good luck instead of whining. It’s just that honestly, sometimes this whole “life of a mental patient” thing can get old.

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