Treacherous Territory

I am thrashing my way through what feels to me like some sort of dark jungle of tangled brush and undergrowth as I push toward the resumption of formal counseling / psychotherapy with a view toward getting some kind of reasonable handle on my mental health symptoms (whether we are going to label whatever this is "depression" or something else).

I find the whole idea of DOING therapy to be horribly intimidating and difficult to contemplate, so just making the first move to initiate that is like walking to the edge of a high cliff and jumping off into empty space. I think I must have made at least a dozen abortive moves toward making the necessary decision that would allow me to pick up the phone and call for an appointment since the "episode" happened a couple of weeks ago. The fact that the first try at counseling last winter was not especially satisfactory doesn't add to my comfort level. And THAT was with a (nominally) "kink aware" practitioner, so there was the benefit of not needing to clear that whole lifestyle hurdle right up front before I could do anything else. I sort of thought that having someone who was at least "aware" would make things easier, but as it turned out, it didn't turn out to feel that way in the event. I ended up feeling as if my therapist was making assumptions and judgements based on my lifestyle role, and it was, in some ways more difficult to deal with (I think) than it might have been with a "vanilla" person who had no expectations for my "role" based behaviors.

And the guy didn't accept any insurance, so every dime was out of my pocket, which made me crazy -- as if I needed anything else to make me crazy!

But, I did finally manage to talk myself through the panic that seemed to grip me everytime I confronted the need to make an appointment, and on Tuesday or Wednesday this last week, I managed to find a therapist with an office near my home who would accept my insurance. The person in the office that I spoke with seemed friendly and helpful, so I went ahead and made an appointment for October 17.

I called to let Him know. He was glad I'd made an appointment, but not altogether happy with my choice of provider. I didn't feel like I'd actually "chosen." I'd simply picked someone from the list provided by my insurer. He'd wanted me to work with a large counseling center near the house, and was not at all mollified by my explanation that the provider that He'd suggested was not on the "list" of approved therapists at the insurance company website where I had gone to try and find someone to see. It ended up being a long and less than happy evening. In the end, He left it at, "you've made the appointment without My input, maybe it will be just fine..."

Then, I got the "New Patient Packet" in the mail with all the forms and releases to sign and fill out. When I opened it up and took a look, the very first thing I saw was the logo at the top -- the "image" that the office that I'd made an appointment with was using on their letterhead. Accompanied by the quote: "a bruised reed He will not break," which (in spite of my limited "heathenish" knowledge) I was quite sure was Biblical in origin. A cursory Internet seach revealed the accuracy of my suspicion. That piece comes from the old testament, from Isaiah, and is widely interpreted to refer to God's mercy and justice.

My stomach just twisted into knots. Turned inside out. I'd already worked myself around the notion of talking through all of the ins and outs of my life with a regular, old, garden-variety, "vanilla" therapist -- hoping that their professional training will take them past any socially ingrained biases related to BDSM or polyamory or M/s. But, I wasn't at all prepared for the extra level of prejudice that I am certain would accompany a Christo-centric worldview.

So, come Monday, I will be cancelling that October 17 appointment. Today, I've done some more serious research into who is in the area here, and I think maybe, I've/We've found someone who might work for this. At least she seems potentially open enough to at least consider the possibility that I'm not evil at the outset. I've sent off an email giving her the barest outline of what's up with me, and I'll see what sort of response I get back. If I don't hear in a couple or three days, I'll try her by phone.

Meanwhile, I am sometimes sort of steady. And then there are those other times.

swan