Another fun filled day at Chez Fleck! Laundry, Easter dresses, taking out the trash, ignoring the rest of the housework, grocery shopping, finding a therapist...
For those of you who know me well, you're probably thinking, "About time that crazy girl got some help! I can't believe she's deluded herself into thinking she was sane all these years." For those of you who don't know me as well, sorry you are SOL on the complete details. (family to protect, not fit for internet consumption, yadda, yadda, yadda.)
This is not going to be easy for me. I've fought depression in the past and while I'm not depressed now (unless I have a really weird version that involves optimism and good will), I still have issues and these issues are hurting those I love. The second hardest step is admitting I'm not perfect and that I need help. The first hardest step is the phone calls...
I hate the phone. Even worse I hate answering machines. Although with close friends and family, I'm usually okay. But when calling a complete stranger, I become tongue tied and sound like an idiot:
"Hi, this is uh, Katie Fleck. My um... company, err I mean insurance company, referred me to you. I have these issues < insert badly described and confusing problems here >. Also do you < insert dreadfully phrased questions with dangling participles here >? My number is ###-#, oops I mean ###-####. Area code ###. Please call me if you think you could uh, help, um, me."
That lovely message was left on 4 of the 5 numbers I called. For the 5th and only live person I reached, I went through my whole awful speech above (minus the phone number). The recipionist paused before replying, "We're a family medical practice, we don't handle problems like yours here." Me: *squeak* "My insurance company messed up, sorry." *dies of embarrassment*
My motto is currently "I can do this." I can ask for help, I can get better, I can become a person without issues. Except maybe the phone one. I'm not sure that one is treatable.
Quote of the Day: "The statistics on sanity are that one out of every four Americans is suffering from some form of mental illness. Think of your three best friends. If they're okay, then it's you." -Rita Mae Brown
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