Expanding from my journal…
I think I’ve decided that I don’t need ‘counseling’. My husband keeps urging me to get the referral from my doctor.
But I feel great now that I have this medication. Not zany, manic great…but even. I realize that I was acting completely irrational before, crying, panicking, ranting and raving. But now, it’s covered. I’m back to me, and I have been for about a month and a half.
And besides, I can tell already that I’m not going to do good with a therapist. I won’t tell them what they want to hear, I know it. I’m happily married even though I married young. I had a fine childhood, no abuse, my parents aren’t divorced, nobody died, I like my sister. I believe in God, which they won’t like to hear… my uncle didn’t touch me in a naughty place, I finished school, I have a good job, I have a lot of
friends…
I just worry a lot. And what’s it to you? And why the hell does anyone care? I mean, believe me. I can talk about myself for days. I can bitch and moan with the best of us, but I know that NO ONE WANTS TO HEAR IT.
The bottom line is, I’m not bothering anyone by worrying about cancer or the end of the world or the concept of infinity or aliens or my dog being sick or whether I should have a baby or whatever. I mean, last night I just lay awake and stared at the ceiling, actually WORRIED about how wire is made. I couldn’t sleep. I’ve just learned not to tell anyone that I’m worried about those things. There’s no point in worrying other people about things I’m worried about.
And what’s that therapist going to do? Give me more pills? Shock therapy? Hypnosis? It would have to be something scary and drastic, because having a therapist say “Well, just don’t worry about those things” isn’t going to do it. People have been telling me that for years. “It’s silly to worry. Don’t waste your time worrying…why worry?” I KNOW THAT.
I’ve just learned now, with medication and self inspectioin to focus on the good things instead. Going to the pumpkin farm, baking cookies, learning how to knit (which I finally did), spending time with friends and family, singing karaoke.
I’m relatively happy today, and for the past two months or so. So why should I sit down and talk for an hour about how things scare me? It’s just going to scare me again. I’d rather block it out as far as possible. I grew out of my fear of NOVA, certainly some day I’ll grow out of my fear of cancer.
Right?
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