how did it go?

my new therapist is a lovely, older hippie lady.  complete with moccasins and a suede leather vest, long white hair, cute round glasses.  it felt good to talk to her.  i cried, like i thought i would, and she thinks that the medication i've taken for the past 14 or so years just needs to be increased a bit. (i'm actually still on the starter dose of paxil, which isn't a lot, so she doubled it).  i was worried about that, because part of me always thinks that if i increase the dose, getting off of it is going to be impossible.

the thing is, the withdrawal from the small amount i take now was hellish.  is it going to be worse if i ever have to go off a higher does? probably.  i don't think i'm going to get to go off my medication, though.  that thought makes me sad, but it is likely that i will have to take some sort of anti-depressant, anti-anxiety medication from here on out.

we talked about how guilty i feel about being anxious, and how that's maybe not the most useful of emotions.  we talked about my dad.  we talked about the kids and D and work, and the therapist thinks that essentially i have anxiety with some depression, and unresolved grief issues.  i tend to agree.

in two weeks i'll go back to see her, and we'll start working through things.  right now i'm adjusting to the new dose of medication (hello, sleepyhead), trying to figure out a way of asking my boss for an hour off every two weeks for a while, and trying to feel more normal.  lately i feel highly emotional, which i don't enjoy, but i think part of the reason i tend to get to these bad spots is because i am so reticent to talk about things.  which is a funny thing to say from a woman who keeps a very public blog.  i would rather brush things off or make a terrible joke about it or stew about it privately than have an honest conversation about my emotions.

i also keep having these very intense, angry dreams.  in them, someone slights me in some way; either they say something mean about me, to me, or about my loved ones, and i go ballistic.  i push, i yell, i threaten violence in very explicit language, i try to punch and slap and fight but my limbs are leaden and all i can do is shove people around.  i wake up agitated and sore in the jaw from clenching.  hello, subconscious.  what are you trying to tell me?  ugh.

on finding a doctor

this post is  just me talking about finding a new doctor and about being nervous. some of it is a repeat of stuff i've written about before.

(and it is also a re-post from tumblr.  yes, i have a tumblr. i'm too old for tumblr and do not give a fuck!)