Deep breath

I'm in a really good place right now. I can't remember the last time I felt so relaxed (I lie: it was when I was sleeping last night). I spent a little time reflecting today, before the appointment with a psychologist (which I made the morning after the panic attack that caused me to lose my mind at 2am, blog about it at 4:44am, and show up for work at 6:15am).

What to discuss, what to discuss. So many issues, so little time. I stuck with the basics: the panic attacks; the overwhelming grief. I've always been an extremely independent person: I rarely ask for help. It became readily apparent that I was in over my head with this. I've never had to deal with something of this magnitude before. I discovered that I prefer to mourn in private. That it's going to take a long time and that's fine; it can run its course and I'm not going to be apologetic for not snapping back instantaneously.

The psychologist was good. She quickly picked up on a few things: my odd tendency to use the phrase "not normal" when discussing certain tendencies and reactions as of late; my infrequent eye contact; and my fun-time weight issue.

I - eschewer of tradition, she who wants to get off the grid, the girl who bought a t-shirt yesterday and instead of changing out of it walked up to the till and leaned over the counter so the guy could scan the price tag (before so kindly offering to cut it off) - was surprised by the number of times I used the term "normal" in our session. The things, societal pressures, obligations that I've been worried about conforming to in the last six weeks? Fuck 'em. If I'm taking too much time off work they can fire me. If I'm making people uncomfortable because I'm still depressed, then they need to deal with that: I've got enough on my plate. I need to continue to work out, get sleep and eat right. Everything else will follow in its own sweet time.

I'm not sure what the eye contact thing is about. I think it's a trust thing. The more I trust you, the more I have a tendency to look you directly in the eye when talking. People have commented on it before. I should likely investigate further. Or start wearing sunglasses all the time. Not sure.

The fun-time (and almost never discussed) weight issue? Meh. Stepping on the scales and seeing that I am four pounds over my ideal weight is agitating. I'm not underweight. I eat very well and very often. I don't even want to discuss it anymore.

Anyways. It was a good meeting. My main concern was the panic attacks and I told her that I had always been somewhat of an anxious and stressed out individual. It's who I am and, believe it or not, I'm a lot better than I was a year ago. The death of my father has thrown me for an absolute loop and I'm not dealing with it as well as I had hoped. So we're going to get together next month and I'm going to learn some stress-management skills. This is what I was hoping for because it will help me through my current situation, and will also give me tools to help me manage the little things in life which sometimes become unnecessarily stressful for me.

So there you have it. If I had a million dollars I would go to see a psychologist once a week. It's great being able to discuss issues that you're having without being judged, and without making the other person feel compelled to help you out immediately (or ruining their day, cause it's their job). It's an ongoing thing.

There's such a stigma attached to going to see a psychologist. I'm not insane. I'm not even close. Which is actually too bad, cause then maybe I could apply for long term disability.

But back to the original thrust of the post. I feel good. I feel mellow and relaxed and less pent up and vaguely optimistic and I feel that I've finally got off my chest a lot of the things that I've been wanting to say for six weeks, six months, sixteen years. I can understand the allure of confession.

When I came home after the session I felt calm and at home. My mind isn't racing. I'm not agitated. My apartment is no longer some place that I have to remain cooped up in until the next time I'm scheduled to leave it. It's home, it's a nice, welcoming and comforting home.