I walked into the room today and slumped down onto the couch without saying a word. There are no words to describe how things have been. R, my psychologist, asked me to rate how my mood has been. I shrugged and muttered an ‘I don’t know.’ After some more prompting, I came out with a 1 or 2. My eyes were starting to well up but tears weren’t falling. Yet. A bit further into the session, the tears were falling freely. I should mention now that I’m not usually this teary and pathetic. Well, I’d like to think not anyway.
R suggested being admitted to a private psychiatric clinic as an inpatient. She asked me how that sounded. I shrugged in response and told her I don’t really mind nor care. Because she’s a clinical psychologist, and not a psychiatrist, she doesn’t have admitting powers. She told me she would attempt to contact Dr T to suggest an admission and would keep me posted. Huh. Good luck getting in touch with her. I received a text message from R about an hour after my appointment informing me that she does not have Dr T’s mobile number and so left a message at her office asking to be telephoned back ASAP. Uh yeah…the next three days are public holidays. The soonest Dr T would be in office is probably Wednesday.
I always seem to choose the worst times to get myself into a crisis. Sighs. The Christmas period last year, and now the Easter period and ANZAC Day this year…
Probably doesn’t matter either way. Keeping in mind the things that Dr T said last time, I doubt she’d admit me anyway. Meh.