I called a psychiatrist office today to set up an appointment to get a perscription for antidepressants. She said it'd be 2 week wait for new patients, puts me on hold and comes back and says the earliest I can get in is May 29th. Wonderful. A whole month. Plus I need to call my insurance and get pre-authorized whatever the fuck that means. The secretary said I'd like the dr, a woman. Of course she would say that, I think it was more to reassure me since I was about to cry when told I'd have to wait a month.

The insurance booklet only listed two for here. The first number I called now belongs to a private residence. The others have offices deep within OKC, we're talking about a 20 minute drive one way.

I'm taking vacation from work May 12-16.

Therapy is going pretty good. I've been feeling a lot better lately. I think it's because I have someone to talk to. Someone who won't inturrupt me, offer unneeded advice, someone removed from the situation, someone who won't judge me. Someone who will just plain listen as I ramble, cry and vent. I feel safe there in what I say and that's something I've never had.

She's asks questions that make me think in a different direction, make me step outside this hell for a moment.

Over Easter weekend I did a lot of writing so I went to Kinkos and copied most of the weekend's entries. Mostly I wrote about how I see this depression, how it makes me feel, why I want out of it. She asked some of those questions on the second visit, all I could say was, 'i don't know,' or 'i'm not sure' and cry.

It seems that everyone is taking Rex's side in all this. Even my own mom, who has never met Rex, seems to think that what ever happened was my fault. My friends, the guys are remaining neutral, and the women have this tone in their voice like I didn't do enough to keep him around or make him happy enough to stay. I don't know if I'm just taking this personally or being overly sensitive or what, but it isn't helping any.

I'm trying to get rid of the junk in my life, physical, emotional and electronic. So I've spent a part of this evening skimming through emails I've saved for some reason. Some of them date back to 1995! Here's some of the stuff I've found in my 'sent' folder

I'm desperately trying to figure out why kamikaze pilots
wore helmets.
--David Edison

***

A girl commited sucide in the dorms the
monday after thanksgiving. She was a freshman. Everyone is wondering
"why? why? she seemed so happy" It got me thinking, ya know, she knew
what she was in for in the next 4 years. I had the same thoughts, fears,
the only difference was she had the guts to go though with it (or the
lack of guts to stick it out). I watched her parents load her stuff into
the car. Life really does go on, doesn't it? The concerns of the living
still need to be addressed like the pink eye epidemic on 3rd floor, all
10 stalls out of toilet paper on 2nd, roaches as big as your thumb in the
lobby.

***

ok, so after i emailed you a few hours ago i got to thinking, which as
you know can be dangerous for someone like me, or you, depending on what
i think up.

***
zits, death, and the all american dream

have you seen on the news that a new acne drug is being labeled with a
warning to doctors to watch for depression and sucidal tentencies in
teens?

imagine...

you have bad skin, and no one wants to go out with you, you become
depressed, go to the doctor and get this medicine. a few weeks later,
your skin has cleared up but no one still wants to go out with you, you
become depressed. realizing you're a loser you kill yourself.

i don't know about you but i can hear sam kenison doing a bit on this.
"OOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWW!OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW! LOSERRRRRRR!"

***
now what the hell does 'PB if you have any' mean? Peanut butter? yes, I
have some, will I send it to you? probably not, unless that's your tweek
and you've been barred from the local grocery store. :)

Well, I went to my second counseling session this afternoon. I guess I'm officially in therapy. She asked me if my tears had a voice what would they say. I'll have to think on that one and get back to you.

I don't feel quite comfortable letting her read my journal so I kept a seperate little notebook that I wrote a few little lines in each night. She said it was a help for her to know how my week went and she used that in our discussion. She wanted me to keep track of my eating and sleep habits as well. Also urged me to at least think about meds but didn't say I absolutely needed them. But that meds could at least get me to think a little clearer and allow me to work through my depression.

Went to therapy for the first time yesterday afternoon. I felt better after leaving. She said the first appt was more of an intake for her to find out what has been triggering my depression and other things that have been on my mind, what my goals for therapy were. She made me an appt for next Monday at the same time.

I didn't cry last night when I got home from work. The last few weeks I've been crying when I get home, crying on the drive home, crying when I get up in the morning, crying at work. But last night I felt ok. This morning I feel pretty good.

Got email from Rex last night. He thanked me for the letter, asked if I've been ok, and said 'I do love you, babe'. I haven't replied yet. Also said he'd email again when he got home from work, but never did. Didn't expect him too.

Because Dana is out of network with my insurance, I have a $500 deductable to meet first. So she's charging me on a sliding scale, $65/appt, until that deducaable is met. Which sorta sucks because I doubt if I can handle $65/ week for the next 7 or 8 weeks. And my company is changing insurance effective May 1.

Friday morning
To: Rex@...
From: rette@...
Subject: none

Today I'm mailing you a letter. All I ask it that you read it. It's short, one page,
that's all. I really wanted to tell you in person, or at least on the phone. I tried to
keep it as positive as possible.


I have no idea how or what you're feeling right now. But I'm hoping my letter will make
you feel better, I think it will. It made me feel better. Please let me know that you got
this email. You don't have to write anything, just hit reply and send.

I'd like to talk to youwhen things settle down for you. Please keep in touch. I miss you.

with love and gentleness,

Friday afternoon (typos are his)
To: rette@...
From: Rex@...
Subject: none

thank you i was afriad to even open the email

thank oyu again

yes we will talk soo thank oyu thank oyu

love oyu babe i have been thinking a lot of oyu

thank you


~*~
Why is he thanking me? Does he know that it's a 'lets just be friends letter' and he's thankful that I wrote it so he didn't need to grow a pair of balls and tell me himself? Is he thankful that I didn't chew his ass out in that email. I had every right under the sun to do so. But I didn't. Nor did I in the letter. I don't like things ending on a bad note, especially things that I've enjoyed and want to keep pure in my heart. And I told him as much in that letter.

Went to Tulsa this afternoon to see my brother and a friend, Scott, from Oregon. It was weird when I was at my brother's apt. He was washing dishes when I got there. Mom's dishes. On the counter was mom's blender. In the living room where two chairs, both from my parent's house. It was weird, but at the same time made it seem comfortable to me. Familiar objects in an unfamiliar place. That was the first time I had been to his place.

Then we went to pick up Scott. I was hungry so we ate at Appleby's. I had the fiesta lime chicken, then we went a mile or two down the road to the mall. By the time we got in the mall, I was ready to puke. Scott wanted to look at leather jackets. I was pacing the other side of the store since walking was making me feel a bit better while Scott tried on jackets and Cam, I guess, gave his opinion. Then we went to a camera store since Scott needed a replacement flash for his camera. By that time I was breathing deep to keep from retching and walking and standing still were both making me sick. I had to tell Scott that I wasn't feeling well, I felt bad enough about having to cut the afternoon short, but his sad puppy eyes made it hard to look at him. So I had guilt further twisting my belly.

Dropped Scott off at his hotel and he gave me an extra squeeze when we hugged good-bye and all I was thinking was, 'don't puke down his back, don't puke down his back.'

Got back to my brothers place just before 5p and me and his toilet became close intimate friends. He left to get fish food and was back 30 min later. Said he wanted to go out with friends since he doesn't get Sat. nights to him self very often. So then I felt guilty about being sick and messing up his plans. So after 3 doses of pepto in an hour I left his house just after 6 still quesy and in desperate need of a nap. When I got home, I called Cameron on his cell figuring he was out. Turns out he never went out. shit-bird. So I hung up and took a shower.

I'm off to bed now.

Mailed out the letter this morning. I'm quite pleased with it. I think he'll feel better after reading it. I felt better after writing it. Felt better after talking with Dana. Kind of like a light at the end of the tunnel better.

This morning I wondered if I really need a counselor and if I should just cancel the appt. But I'll keep it. Who knows what will happen between now and Monday that will set me back into a destructive frame of mind again.

I've got the letter written. Just have to copy out the final draft. I think I'll post mail it to him. I doubt if he has my email blocked but I don't want to take any chances. Plus, it's too easy to delete an email.

When the therapist, Dana, called me back we talked about insurance then she asked how she could help me. I broke down bawling. Part of it was just stuff that has built up over the last year, but also of relief that I'd finally have someone to talk to about this. I told her of some of the things I've been feeling and at the end of the call she asked if I was having any thoughts of sucide or of hurting myself this evening. She actually sounded concerned like she cared for me. That took me by surprise for whatever reason. I've never sought help before so I have no idea what to expect. Guess I've watched too many movies where the patient rattles out their heart and the doctor sits there doodling in his notepad coldly and calmly detached from what the patient is saying.

Hopefully in a few months or so I'll start to feel better. If not, then probably drugs. Happy Pills. I'm not totally against them, but I'm afraid that I won't know if the joy I'm feeling is true or induced. When the pills go away, will the happy go away too? I know they've helped a lot of people. But I'd rather use that as a last resort.

Last night I emailed a counsler. Today she emailed back and answered some of my general questions like what to expect the first visit, how long will I have to go, that sort of thing. I left a message and she called me back and I have an appt Monday at 1p.

Yesterday and today I've been outlineing a letter in my head to Rex. Basically I want to say that even though I want him to be happy, I want to be happy too and him not returning my calls or emails hurts. I love him, he'll hold a special place in my heart and maybe later when things settle down for us, we can get together as friends because I do value his friendship and don't want to lose it.

He's the healthest relationship I've ever had with a guy. Don't know what that says about me.

The first step is admitting you need help. I need help. It's not just about the Rex issue either. That just pushed me over the edge. Even before I met Rex I had been thinking about going to a therapist or shrink or someone. I have some self-esteem problems, sexual hang-ups, and my depression has been coming back in fits and starts, not to mention the mild paranoia and near constant feeling of abandonment, and this whole war thing isn't helping either. I would like to put a stop to this before I fall into the same pit I was in a few years ago. If that happens, it'll be a darker deeper depression than what I had, if you can imagine that.

Thought about starting out with a therapist, not covered by insurance and according the the sliding income scale, will cost me approx $40 a visit. Or go to a psychiatrist for a $20 co-pay and a prescription. But then the insurance will know I'm a bit touched and the HR guy handed out a paper a few weeks ago that said the company can, at any time, request health information about us from the insurance people.

I don't have any close friends that I can talk to. Beth and Sue are both childless and neither has been in a relationship with a man for the last 15 or 20 years, but hearing them talk, you'd think they were marriage counslers and child behaviorists. Lack of experience seems to make them experts and I'm careful to talk about my personal life around them.

Mary, living in Norman, I hardly see anymore. She has a job at Tinker Air Force Base, new house, a new car, a dog, a cat and a "wonderful" boyfriend and job flexibility to vacation where she wants at a moment's notice. When I'm around her, I sometimes feel like the token white trash friend she has from her past life as a college student. So for the sake of my own self-image we only get together a few times a year.

Oh, and remember that ganglion surgery I had last May? Well, the last few weeks just below the scar has been a bit sore and it looks like a new bump is forming. The dr said the surgery has a 90% success rate. Just my luck I'm in that 10%. But the pain is minor to nothing compared to what I had this time last year, so I do have that to be thankful for.

Got new glasses today too. When I first put them on my right eye started wigging out and the chick said there was a big change in that eye. At work this afternoon, when I was doing database entry, it was nice to look from paper to screen to paper without having to wait for my eyes to clear up the minor double vision I have. Maybe now my headaches will go away, cause I hate like hell to have to get a haircut too.

My love to all ya'll for reading through this hypochondriac rant. kiss kiss