I mentioned the wonderfullness of Wellbutrin in an earlier post. The shrink at school who prescribed it for me suggested that I also look into doing some therapy. And I know I should. If my problems are serious enough to warrant antidepressants, they warrant examination, too, and now seems like the time. Even before the hurricane pulled the rug out from under my life, I had "issues" having to do with being in some ways a chronic underachiever, and also about relationships.
But.
The shrink gave me a list of therapists who are still in town and deemed competent. One of them was the girl that Adam dubbed the Sandspur--the one who made me feel like I was being stalked, dated at least two guys I had previously gone out with (including the Psychopath), and worst of all tried to get me to play kickball. (One of the perks of adulthood is that no one can force me to play kickball ever again.)
Adam himself dated a therapist who was a real nutcase. My old therapist had a tic.
And I wonder how these people are supposed to help me with my problems when they don't seem to be handling their own?
Okay, I know about avoidance and resistance and all that. I know I'm resisting something that would probably help me. I "interviewed" a therapist today and she seemed non-nutty and is willing to do a reduced fee if I commit to sticking with it.
But right now everything about therapy and therapists and the things therapists say and the very idea that I need therapy is INCREDIBLY FUCKING ANNOYING.
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Music
- Bluff City Backsliders
- NOBS Brass Band
- Viva L'American Deathray Music
- Tony Joe White
- Ballzack
- Amy LaVere
- Pine Leaf Boys
- Rotary Downs
- The Happy Talk Band
- Clint Maedgen
- Glen David Andrews & The Lazy Six
- Tin Men
- Grayson Capps
- Morning 40 Federation
- Red Stick Ramblers
- Dap Kings
- Harlan T Bobo
- Ponderosa Stomp
3 comments:
Hi Miss H., I'm back. I'm still reading your blog, still a fly on the antenna as you drive the unpredictable BMW of your life.
When you were talking about wanting to be a "confessional non-fiction writer... want[ing] more than anything to interest strangers in my life," I could relate -- although in an inverse way. About 15 years ago, I started keeping a journal. I skipped the pretty cloth-covered books of my youth and embraced Microsoft Word a la Doogie Howser, M.D. I had just made a major move (3000 miles from home, no job, no home, no friends, no money), and the journal became my therapy.
This leads me to your current blog entry. I've had a remarkably good life, and I recognize it. That said, everyone has issues. For me, I was able to talk anyway I wanted about anything I wanted in the hallowed and private (password-protected) halls of my journals. No fear of hurting people's feelings or being judged. It was tremendously therapeutic for me, and I believe it literally changed the direction of my life.
So, if this non-nutty therapist tries to get you to play Pass-Out or any other game of childhood torture, maybe you could create a new blog under a pseudonym and journal unfettered and in public.
By the way, it's NEVER too late to acquire a taste for good music. Is it me, or is Alex Chilton getting a ton of press these days? A few of my favorites this week are The Format, Supergrass, Black Stone Cherry, Fivespeed, and (my vote for the best band name of the year) Jesus H. Christ and the Four Hornsmen of the Apocalypse (with a tribute to the crap state I live in called "Connecticut's For F***ing"). Music is good therapy too.
Enough for my long-ass comments. Best.
I checked out Jesus H. Christ and the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse--I mean, you're right, you have to love them just for having such a name. They're hilarious, Connecticut is for Fucking is genius, but the singer's voice bugged me.
I'm sorry to hear that Connecticut is a crap state. As NOLA becomes more unlivable, I wonder which are the non-crap states. Mr. M lives in Minneapolis, which has a lot of good qualities, but to me they're cancelled out by the nine months of winter and the being a thousand miles from the ocean. Sigh.
I've lived in a place that was not only non-crap (kind of a low standard), it was amazing. In fact, were it not for the fact that my family is in New England, and I really want to be close to them, I would still live there.
That amazing place is Seattle. It's beautiful in more ways than a person can count. It's a real city with great culture and interest. It's got a nifty meteorological phenomenon called "the convergence zone" which keeps the weather mild all year-round. There's a couple sweltering days in the summer and a couple cold days in the winter (snow is rare).
You do have to adapt to the overcast/drizzle, which is a fixture in the fall/winter/spring. But it's not as rainy as its reputation. In fact, New York City gets more annual rainfall than Seattle. The difference is that Seattle's is light and perpetual. But usually, you don't even need an umbrella.
It's technically on a sound, but you can easily get to the ocean. That was an important consideration for me, too (although it took me a year to adapt to the water being on the "left" instead of the "right").
I moved from Maine to Seattle on a well-planned whim (if that makes sense) when I was 25 years old. I went for the adventure, to live and see someplace new, to exert my independence, and to be close to the then-emerging music scene (that would quickly become famous as grunge). I figured I'd stay a year: I stayed nine. The only reason I came back to New England was my family, and I fully intend to move back there someday (although it may be retirement).
So, there you go. My suggestion for a great, non-crappy place to live. Maybe a nice vacation to check it out is in order. You need a vacation anyway. You might as well go to an amazing place that might be your future home.
I'm glad to hear that TS Chris isn't going to materialize. Congrats on the environmental law journal! Stay safe.
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