Fearing the Good

Ok…so I contacted my last option therapist this morning. He got back to me within just a couple of hours…on a Sunday?! Anyway…he apparently has 30+ years treating and helping borderline patients, takes my insurance, is very local, and also has evening appointments…while this is all great news, I find myself very scared. I mean, what if I don’t like him? What if he’s not good? What if…something else happens and it just doesn’t work out? What if…I don’t know. There are so many what ifs that could make this all go wrong and not be as good as it sounds like it could or may be.

He doesn’t prescribe meds but he said many of his patients are already on them so he is experienced and willing/able to work with the family doctor as far as discussing effectiveness of medications so they can actually write the script. That’s good, right? Right? Right?

And now comes the even scarier part! The phone call. Ugh. “You can contact me at xxx-xxxx”. Those words just suffocate me. I don’t want to call on a Sunday. I will call tomorrow. Right? I think that makes sense.


2 thoughts on “Fearing the Good

  1. I’ve been pretty lucky…
    let me rephrase that:
    I’ve been incredibly blessed over the years having been treated by some of the best, most compassionate, most insightful and easily the most understanding therapists I could have imagined or realistically expected.
    Of course, the price to pay for the first three of them was having to live in the suburbs of New York City, which just added to the problems.
    When we were in Colorado, I had to drive an hour to get to my therapist’s office or home, but hey – it was through the canyons of the Rockies, therapy in itself.
    It also helped in a sense that The Diagnosis from the beginning was Depression, something they all knew and had experience with.
    Don’t know where you are, but the availability of Yoda’s seems to be lacking.
    Something to keep in the back of your mind or on a sticky note by your computer monitor:


    I actually did a number of those kinds of sessions with a psychiatrist in Sacramento, a twenty-minute drive from our home, but he knew I needed to be close to Liz in the months after her back surgery and that having to re-learn how to drive after losing the sight in one eye and any depth-of-field was a serious drain on me.
    We did the video chats.
    Actually worked out well.
    Hope the new candidate meets the challenge for you.

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