I saw the new Doctor. My opinion has been put on hold while I do some checking.
She recommended - very strongly - a test.
I agreed, then waffled, then agreed... And did a lot of research. I like to know my facts. Which, of course, boil down to probabilities, not black and white, if you want to be really, really precise. Which, of course, I do.
So finally, I decided to take the test because I didn't think there was any other way to shut my brain up. (Best reason ever for Exposure Therapy, by the way.)
But even that decision had to be checked. Do I feel good about it? Yes. Good. Now, let's check again. Do I still feel good about this decision? Yes? Ah, very good.
Set up appointment. Did I feel relieved? Yes. Good. Do I still feel relieved? Yes. How wonderful. Do I still feel good about it (the decision, I mean)? Yes. But if I keep asking myself, chances are I will at some point answer that I'm not feeling so good about it.
And I'm big on knowing facts like probabilities (not precise probabilities every time, just knowing what is more and less likely to happen).
Well, finally, it hit me. I might have scheduled the test for the wrong time! Oh, that lovely (sarcasm intended) terrible feeling. The feeling of OCD hitting a home run, scoring a touchdown, whatever you are supposed to say in sports that I only know a little about - I know a lot about a lot, but just a little about sports, in case you are checking). The feeling of impending disaster, of the OCD variety.
Well, I haven't been through three and a half years of therapy and multiple medications for nothing. I reason out what I'll have to do to sort through my dilemma. Who I'll need to talk to, in what order...
And then the another strong and familiar feeling from that familiar OCD companion. Urgency. The test is not urgent. My anxiety is. The schedule isn't even so important, although it does include taking time off work which means it involves multiple people etc., etc. But the anxiety? I want it gone. NOW. Well, really, several days ago. And that is why this whole scheduling and test taking tangle is messing with me. It really isn't. The anxiety is.
In conclusion, I still hate anxiety. I still think OCD is a very creative monster (I can appreciate its creativity, though, along with its intelligent ability to follow patterns and generally manipulate me into a knotted feeling in my stomach - at least, the feeling I think people are referring to when they speak of having a knot in their stomach). And I still think depression is a lousy energy zapper that, combined with depression, can leave me in a hole that is not so easy to climb out of. And right now, that hole is just annoying and inconvenient. It is a hole that involves very little housework - not sure why it is so difficult to pick up a few things around the house, but trust me; it is. It is a hole that involves watching TV and surfing the internet and pondering whether or not to ponder deep, philosophical/depressed thoughts. It is a hole that irritates me. And a hole that leaves me grateful for my counseling appointment this coming week. This was quite a long month. I think when I go to schedule my next counseling appointment, I should not be quite so optimistic. Maybe two weeks is too short, but four weeks is too long. Maybe I'll try three weeks. After all, I am an intelligent problem solver, and if two weeks is too short and four weeks is too long, then logically, somewhere in the middle might be just right.
And by the way, Mr. Psychiatrist my first, I have tried to be a creative writer who uses words skillfully to communicate. If that means I have "primitive" communication skills, I'm sorry you think that way. Oh, and I think star people are really fun and star cartoons are a good thing, not a sign of my mental inability to cope.