Why don't you go to counseling, Heather?

Today was a very long day.  I got up early.  I slept pretty well and actually woke up about 5 minutes before the alarm.  The cat was curled up, next to me, in bed.  A nice start.

However, I had an appointment to see Doc.  He is crosstown.  I knew it would be at least 2 long rides.  I brought a 6-pack of Diet Dr Pepper, the remaining candy, and our coats.  It was pretty chilly.

I was just a little manic, the level I like.  Our ride was a little late.  I think the other client had delayed him, or maybe the traffic.  He picked us up and we had a long ride to "The Center".  "The Center" used to be known as "The Center for the Retarded".  Awful name, huh?  Our passenger kept waving his arms around and "vocalizing".  He seemed pretty happy, though.

I've told Ron this, I think one enviable trait about the developmentally disabled, "slow", whatever you call "them" - they live, completely, in the present.  As a result, they are often very cheerful.  They don't brood on the past, they don't worry about the future, they just live entirely in the moment.  I think that's worth emulating.

The "Center" was over by the mental health intake office (shudder).  Oh, that was a nightmare, trying to get into the system.  A whole day of my life, down the drain, AND THEN they lost everything.  [shudder]  I'll come back to this.

We finally got over to the office, and we headed in to see Doc.  Ron was on the phone, dealing with the bank, so I left him to it and headed in to the office.  He had 2 residents with him, on rotation.

Medical residents have a 6-week "rotation" on psychiatry.  Basically, the teaching doc tries to show them the spectrum of the profession, and hopefully tempt them into choosing it later on.

I walked in, and said "Oh, students!"  They asked me if I "minded" if they sat in, and I said absolutely not, when Doc retires who is going to write my prescriptions?  I talked a little about my illness, symptoms, and medication.  I was in the middle of explaining how 2 bupropions, if taken daily for more than a day or so, will cause me to have hallucinations and paranoia, so I only take 2 if I "can't get myself into the shower".

Doc came in, we said hey, and I gave him some candy (I'd already gotten the students).  I told him I wasn't having big manias, very small ones, a little manic at the moment.  Doc: "I noticed".  [grin]  I told him about the herbal stuff I take for the hot flashes, and he got the Herbal PDR I gave him to look it up!  One of the students wanted to quiz me on side effects, so I told him "Trouble with word finding and some brain fog, mild tremor, and a lot of nausea"

Doc told them "Heather is very stable" - and I took that as a huge compliment, and he talked again about the frustration of patients who treat lithium like a pain killer.  "I'm better now, I don't need it".

He told me I needed another blood test, and ordered me to get a pelvic (I had to mention the hot flashes). All in all, a good visit, got all my pills, and off I went.

We met my aunt, for lunch, like we do.  She had my second cousin with her.

I told her about my checkup, and she asked me why I didn't go to counseling.  I went with the primary reason:  I have had bad experiences with counseling.

I don't see, how someone could look at me for hours on end, for weeks and years on end, and miss the 'bipolar".  I wasn't exactly subtle with my symptoms, but they were so eager to attribute it to "post traumatic" "teenage acting out" or "caregiver burnout".  I mean, I was TEXTBOOK.

As a result, I have a pretty hearty disdain for most counseling.  I was, however, told by one professional that I am "remarkably self-aware" - so I'll take that - counseling certainly helped me become more self-aware.

But take my problems: brain damage.  Counseling is not going to fix that.  I have come to terms with my maiming, and, like my brain-damaged "siblings", strive to live in the present if at all possible.

Problem: bipolar.  Well, I can take my pills, and deal with it.  Or, I can refuse to take my medication and have a lot more problems and get eaten alive by demons in my head.  I just thank God I HAVE medication.  Next?

Problem: caregiving.  Well, I could leave him.  Or I could stay.  I can set boundaries and keep them strong.  I can and do set limits on what I'm willing to do.  If I didn't, Ron would have me up all night looking up lyrics for every song he's ever heard, swear he'd remember them, promptly forget, and ask me to search again.  I also have designated times for myself, where he doesn't bother me (like during my God Time).

Problem: alcohol.  I refuse to help him with anything related to alcohol - looking up liqueur recipes on the internet, buying it, reading the "proof", even going with him to the liquor store "And then we could go to eat after, you don't have to go in, or I can drop you at the store you like."  Nope.

Problem: money.  Well, we have enough to keep a roof over our heads.  Ron worries a lot about things like the property tax, insurance, etc.   God knows, if I let myself, I'd get eaten up with worry about things that could go wrong, needing repair, with the house.  I opt out of that worry; it's not productive, and harmful.  If needed, I'll get another job, somewhere.  

Which brings me to the second point.  I love my aunt, but she and I are from different spectrums.  Her home is paid off.  She has insurance.  I do not.

Who would pay for it?  I sure can't afford the going rates.

Let's go back to the county mental health clinic - they have a support group, if I felt I needed it, and I didn't mind a long bus ride.  That's free.  I could go to Al-anon.  They have a lot of dual-diagnosis stuff - most alcoholic spouses have problems with depression, from what I have read.  They would be happy to have me - if I didn't mind riding 4 hours on the bus, on my day off.   And that's the CLOSE one.  I also didn't have much in common with the other gals.

I would walk in, carrying my backpack and wearing my thrift-store coat, and they would just kind of gape at me.  Awkward.

Lastly, I don't really think counseling could help in any appreciable way.  I just need to take my pills, get enough sleep, walk away from Ron if he is ugly or drunk, take my vitamins, be nice to myself, don't wallow when depressed, stay interested in various activities so I don't rot my brain, go to work and do it well, and have my God Time.