Waiting for the doctor. I spend a large portion of my life in waiting rooms. The smell is always the same and the temperature is always wrong; too cold to take your jacket off yet too warm to keep it on. I learned a while ago that dressing in layers is key. I think today’s appointment is with both my anger management and my psychiatrist as I have recently started some new meds to help with the anxiety that cripples me and one that will hopefully deal with my constant headache. I’ve gotten over the fact that I won’t learn anything earth shattering at these appointments, but I still find them helpful for keeping me on the right track. I get grief from some co-workers about my many appointments, but I’ve gotten over that for the most part. In reality, if I stopped going I would most likely regress and be right back where I started; unable to work and unable to leave the house. I still feel guilty for missing work, but I always pay for it when I have to catch up with everything when I get there.
I can’t believe it is already November! There I go off on a tangent again. I have been going to this psychiatrist for about 4 years now, pretty much every two weeks, yet every time if go I panic. I’m not sure exactly what panics me, but it’s there! I’ve always assumed that doctors only give bad news and one of these times I’ll be told I only have months to live. What is worse is that I don’t know what I would do with those last months and I begin to stress about that too. In the end that news never comes and I feel like I dodged a bullet, but still am not relieved. I can’t seem to shake this worry no matter how much evidence has piled up against it. I try, I really do.