It's couch time.
Well, I did it. I made an appointment to see a therapist. I'm nervous, I hope I like her! I envision myself going to a safe place where I can just expel all my worries and anxieties and consequently get good, nonjudgmental, unbiased feedback. I hope this therapist can do that for me. (I hope also she has good decorations in her office.)
Honestly? I don't mind being on Celexa. I know that the right thing to do is complement it with therapy, but I'm not going to go see a shrink just so I can get off the drugs. Maybe my view on that will change....but I really don't mind. I feel good: what's so wrong with that? Is it really harming me physically to take what I take? The only bad I see in it at the current time is the support of the drug company corporate monstrosity....but whatevs. You can't win everything.
I hate the stigma behind SSRIs, hate it. Hardly anyone says (aside from other people also on them), "You know, that's great you're taking medication, Rosie. I'm so happy it's making you feel better." It's all..."Why are you on it?"... "Why do YOU need it?"..."How long are you going to take it?"..."You're not going to be on it forever are you?"..."When are you going to stop taking it?"
It's not something that can be summed up in a sentence or two, the reason I'm on it. The receptionist who just scheduled my appointment asked me what I was coming in for. %&%%^%???!!!!$#%%&^%^!!!!! Because I'm a crazy type-A anal anxious worrywort of a human being who needs to deal with some issues pronto? (Actually, that does about sum it up.)
Anyway, yay me. I've got the physical part under control (that's what my magic pills are for, silly!) Now I'm undertaking the gargantuan task of dealing with the shit racing around in this little red head of mine.
Congratulations and support are in order.