trying to get rid of the nutty feeling

I’m back to where I was this time last year. It came on later this time, but I’m in the funk of forty thousand years. I’m pretty sure this lower dose of Effexor is not enough in the dark days of Washington fall and winter.

Dr. J, per my request and his concern, has referred me to a psychiatrist. After I got the referral in the mail, I looked him up. His bio lists “Special Interests: psychotic illnesses.” Point taken.

I’m no good with mental health professionals. Just making the appointment makes me feel like I have lost control.

Because  I have. I’m not on the edge, but it could come at anytime.

It’s feels like an admission of weakness. Because it is. I cannot help myself any longer. I need more assistance. It’s good for my household that I have a neutral third party evaluation.

Don’t let me talk myself out of it.

Here’s how my imagination sees this appointment playing out:
I will get defensive and try to convince Dr. A that I am not, in fact, suffering from his special interest, psychotic illnesses. I’ll talk a lot without looking him in the eye. I’ll tell him about the books I’ve read in The Highly Sensitive Person: How to Thrive When the World Overwhelms You. I’m sure it won’t take him long to tell me that I’m right. Except in being right, I am suffering from neurotic illness. Hopefully,  it will end with a trial of a new medicine regimen and infrequent appointments.

Loving the Rain photo by Clearly Ambiguous on Flickr