7th Group Therapy Session

Today's session started with a lot of silence.  Our therapist usually lets a lengthy silence pass before he asks what we think the silence is about.  At first, I was sleepy, and then as the silence continued, I began to get restless and I wished someone would say something.  Other people thought the silence was relaxing, an oasis of sorts from life's everyday demands.  

Once people began to talk, though, the session became interesting.  I found out new things about several of the members, and talked briefly about trying to make the decision to move in with my mom or keep my apartment.  I haven't been here (my treasured tiny apartment) much lately; taking care of my mom is a 24-7 job.  I am immensely enjoying my freedom, but it looks as though the right thing to do is postpone my single life a bit.  I feel some resentment toward my mother due to the fact that I never felt nurtured by her as a child, but I can't leave all the work for my brother.  So I feel as though I'm putting on the "dutiful daughter" mask for now.

Otherwise, we talked about drinking issues, delayed sexual experiences, and working to help the world's poor.  I have mixed feelings about this last discussion.  I tend to mistrust those who devote their lives (or say that they do) to "good works."  I'm sure there are a lot of genuinely kind-hearted people in the world, and without them, the world would be much the worse.  But for every genuine soul who wants to help, there are others who just want to be seen helping, or who want to make a name for themselves as a "saviour" of some sort.  I thought a lot about my perception of this inclination on the drive home, and I think that maybe I'm just too introverted to understand.  I don't mean that I'm shy, just predominantly  inwardly-focused.  In order to dedicate your life to helping others, you probably need to be extroverted, or predominantly concerned with what's going on outside of you.  So maybe my reaction to the girl who's interested in world peace and ending hunger is entirely unfounded.  It seemed to put an instant wall between us; now I think that wall was erected by the opposite tendencies in our personalities.  She looks out; I look in.  Maybe that's why she's normally so quiet in group; she's focusing on us, not herself.  Which, actually, compels me to ask the question: Why is she in group therapy?

6th Group Therapy Session

I was the first to arrive at group (as usual, since it's a long drive for me and so I leave home two hours early).  I spoke to the therapist who asked how I was doing, and if maybe I would feel like talking to the group about my depression from yesterday and the night before.  I wasn't sure I would be able to talk about it: first of all, it's a complicated relationship issue, and it's still freshly painful, but I told him I would try.  But after the first few minutes of group, one of the girls asked me how I was.  Maybe she could sense that I was feeling down, or that something was different about my demeanor.  So I opened up and told them the whole sordid story about the online ex-"boyfriend" and the craziness that happened over the weekend.

After dumping me before my surgery because I didn't want him to come take care of me, he sends me some IMs on Friday night and Saturday morning.  Over the month that we didn't speak, I tried to stop thinking about him, but I found that almost impossible.  His messages said that he missed me, he felt he made a mistake & that he had ruined things between us, and he asked me to call him.  So I did, like a complete fool.  I had discovered him on a web site chatting with women and other unsavory activities.  I realized that he wasn't on the site until after we had our misunderstanding, so I wasn't terribly upset, but I did want to make sure that he was honest with me.  So I asked him if he had been chatting with anyone over the last month, and he said no.  I said, "Are you sure?"  Still the answer was that he had not chatted with anyone, he was not on any sites like that.  I gave him plenty of chances to come clean, making hints, calling him his code name on the site (which I had never called him before).  He still denied it.  When I finally confronted him about the site, he said, "Oh, that one."  Then, of course, he tried to explain it away.  I let it go and talked about meeting him at some point.  As soon as we hung up from the phone, I noticed a new Instant Message from him on my screen.  It basically said, "After our talk, I don't think we should do anything.  OK.  Bye."  We chatted for a few moments about it, but came to the conclusion that it was over between us.  

The next morning, I got word that my cousin Melvin had died.  This was the third death in a month for family members or friends, and I began thinking of the brevity of life.  I decided to send him a long email in which I poured my heart out to him, telling him that I would drive to Kansas as soon as I could, and we could make our final decision in person.  I got no response.  

Without going into all the details, on Wednesday night, I found out just how low he was, that he had lied to me on more than one occasion, that he didn't think of me as anyone special, that he would say all those "special" things to any woman and that he had no interest in my coming to Kansas.  I felt heartbroken.  I cried all night.  The next morning, I missed an appointment with my therapist because I couldn't get out of bed until almost 1:00.  

I've since been trying to get rid of my feelings for him, and I think I've been successful for the most part now.  I was amazed at how just talking about it in group today made me feel so much better.  One of the guys even said, "I want to drive to Kansas and kick him in the balls," which made me feel that someone cares about me, that I am protected by the good in this world.  I felt sympathy from everyone in the room.  I think a lot of people out there know what it's like to believe in someone who makes you feel special, who tells you he loves you, only for you to discover that he tells the same thing to many women.  I knew intellectually that he was not right for me from the beginning, but I ignored my thoughts and relied too heavily on feelings alone.  He made me feel good, and there was a definite interest in the way he looked, which only makes me feel more shallow now.  I poured my heart out to him in that email Sunday morning only to get no response from him.  This made me realize that he is not capable of the deep thought and feeling that I need from a relationship.  Not to sound like a snob, but he's not smart enough for me either, not deep enough, not sensitive enough, not even interesting enough.  He's a liar and a bullshitter and I'm glad I found out the truth before I ever met him and possible became even more involved.

The sad thing is that despite this revelation, I still feel as though I want to check my email or IM to see if he has sent me anything.  I want to look at the web site he is on where he chats with other women to see what he's doing.  But I know the best thing for me is to just go cold turkey and delete every reference I have of him in my phone and computer.  I deleted his photos from my cell phone today, but that's as far as I've gotten.  I still see his face in my mind and find myself drawn to him.  

I feel a little better tonight also.  I'm hoping that soon I will think of him only in anger and disgust, and that those feelings will not last long as well before his memory is just an afterthought, a paltry thing filed away in my subconscious.  

2nd Missed Private Session

I missed my private session with the therapist today.  I was so depressed that I couldn't get out of bed until almost 1:00.  I was awake, but I just lay there, unable to function.  I heard my therapist calling (my ring tone for him is Patsy Cline's "Crazy"), but I couldn't even answer it.  I'm feeling a little better tonight.  I'm going to send him an email before I go to bed so that he knows what happened to me, and that I will try to be in group tomorrow.  

Third Visit with Psychiatrist

Today I saw my psychiatrist for the third time.  He wanted to review with me to see how well the medications are working.  I told him about the things that have been going on in my life, and that I had gotten somewhat off schedule with the meds because of everything (mainly staying with my mom so much).  He talked to me a bit about it, and I thought he would say to continue with the current dosage, but instead he increased my Prozac from twice a day to three times a day.  He also refilled my Xanax, realizing that I would need it for a while longer due to all the stress in my life at the moment.  So now I am taking 60 mg of Prozac a day.  It should take about 6 weeks to see the full effect of the change, so that's when I'll be returning to see him.

5th Group Therapy Session

Today the therapist asked the group if anyone wanted to know anyone else in the group better.  A girl said she wanted to know more about me, I suppose because I'm the newest member.  She asked how I met my husband.  Soooo...... I told them the entire crazy story from start to finish.  Normally, I either tell people that I met him while on vacation in Jerusalem, or that I married him as a favor to a friend to bring him into this country.  Neither of those things is true.  It started with a serious bout of depression.  I had just divorced my 1st husband.  I felt miserable, and wondered why every choice I had made in life up to that point had seemed to be the wrong choice.  I didn't believe in God, but I prayed that night in bed before falling asleep.  I asked God to tell me what to do to be happy and I would do it.  I would submit to his will (which always makes me think of Lucifer in Paradise Lost who says, "I will not submit.").  But I said I would do whatever he told me to do, and I meant it.  

That night I had a dream.  It was very vivid, and in the dream I was getting married.  I was entering a marriage that had been "arranged" for me by my friend Nasser at university.  I couldn't see the groom's face in the dream, but I felt so completely happy, no, joyful, that when I awoke, the feeling of joy lasted with me all day long.  That night I went to class and saw Nasser sitting in the courtyard.  I sat next to him and was very tempted to say, "Okay, who do you want me to marry?"  But not wanting to initiate such a thing, I talked about casual matters.  Within a few minutes, Nasser began to talk about his nephew, Fareed, who he thought would make an excellent match for me.  He asked me if I would write to him, and I instantly agreed.  Without the dream, I never would have considered such a thing.  My rational mind would have overruled that possibility immediately.  But knowing that I had told God that I would do whatever he/she told me to do if I only knew what it was... Well, to make a long story short, I flew to the Middle East a month later, met Fareed, and married him five days afterwards.  

I think the group was pretty stunned at my revelation.  Most American women do not have arranged marriages.  Most people do not take their dreams that seriously.  They said I took a huge risk, but at the time, I didn't feel my actions were risky at all.  I felt confident that the  universe would not steer me in the wrong direction.  In other words, I trusted some seemingly "outside force" much more than I trusted my own judgment.  And even though things don't seem to have worked out ideally, I think the universe was right in putting us together.  I can't imagine never having met him and never having loved him.  There seems to be such a purity of spirit in Fareed; I have faith in many things now because of him.  

4th Group Therapy Session

3rd Group Therapy Session

Today was my 3rd group session.  I told everyone about my father's death, but I didn't go into detail and was very surprised that no one asked how he died.  They focused more on how I was doing emotionally.  I told them I feel as though I'm on "auto-pilot." 

The therapist said that in the Jewish tradition, when someone dies the family sits around and shares stories (good or bad) about that person.  He asked me if there was anything I wanted to share with the group about my father.  I told them that when I was really young, my father and I would both get up before anyone else.  He would sit in his chair in the den for a while before he made breakfast for the family.  I would come into the den with my stuffed monkey, George, as soon as I woke up.  It never failed that my father would look up, smile, and say, "Here comes George."  I would sit in his lap, sometimes talking, sometimes just sitting quietly (or napping) before it was time to make breakfast.  That was our routine for a long time.  

One of the guys in group cried after my story.  He said it made him think of his relationship with his grandfather.  I was amazed that my simple story could affect someone so much.  It's interesting how some of the members feel safe enough in group to freely express their emotions, whereas in the "real world," these emotions would most likely be suppressed.  

Missed Private Session

Today I missed my private session with my therapist.  I only sent him the email last night, so I'm still responsible for payment (not 24 hours notice).  I cancelled because I thought I would be helping my mom handle the arrangements of an at-home hospice for my father.  As it turned out, the hospice wasn't needed because my father passed away in the hospital last night.  

I took my father to the hospital yesterday afternoon because he was having severe stomach pain and was throwing up what looked to be blood.  After doing x-rays, the physician told me it looked as though he would need surgery for a perforated bowel.  I called my brother (who had taken my mother to get a blood transfusion for chemo-related anemia), and they came to the hospital as soon as they could.  By the time they arrived, the surgeon had told me that according to the x-ray, my father already had gangrene in his abdomen and the chances of his survival were less than 10 percent.  My father had been saying for some time that he didn't want surgery, he just wanted to go home.  When my brother got there and talked to the doctor and surgeon, he made the decision to have an in-home hospice set up for my father.  He talked to my dad about it, trying to make sure he understood everything.  The surgeon thought that my dad would last a few days, but his organs shut down due to sepsis, and he passed away just before 11:00 that night.  

My father was 80 years old and hadn't been in good health for a long time.  He had chronic leukemia for roughly twenty years, had degenerative disks in his back that took him from 6' 1" to about 5' 6".  He had diverticulosis and constantly had stomach pains and other related issues.  Even with all these health problems, the perforated bowel was a sudden and totally unexpected diagnosis. 

My therapist called today to ask how I was doing, and I told him what had happened.  I also told him I want to try to make it to the group session on Friday.  My mom's not going to like it, but I think I need to try to get back into a normal routine as soon as possible.  I really think the sessions are helping me, so I don't want to miss any more than I absolutely have to.     

2nd Visit with Psychiatrist

It's been 4 weeks since I started my medications, so today was my check-up with the psychiatrist to see if they're helping me.  Before the meds, I was making 2 or 3 lists before I even hit the shower in the morning.  Now, I may make 2 or 3 lists during an entire day, but even then, I don't feel the urgency of the list and I can normally stop myself mid-cycle, something I've never been able to do before.  So, YES, I definitely think the drugs are helping.  He said I won't see the full effect of the drug for another 4 to 6 weeks.  He says it's up to me if I want to increase the amount of Prozac I'm taking to try and eradicate as much of the OCD symptoms as possible.  However, the higher the dosage of Prozac, the more "flat" I will become emotionally.  So it's a trade-off.  I decided to wait the additional weeks to see what the full effect of the dosage I'm on will be before I make the decision to try more or not.  

I also told him about going off the Xanax for several days when I had surgery.  He cautioned me against going off it cold turkey.  At twice the dosage I'm on, going cold turkey can cause seizures.  He also said I should probably start weaning myself off of it very slowly if possible.  The body builds up a resistance to Xanax, so if I don't feel I need it, I shouldn't take it.  So today for my 2nd dosage, I took half a pill instead of a whole one.  I'm going to try and wean myself off of if, and save it for those times when my anxiety is really bothering me.

Xanax Withdrawal

I had my surgery on the 14th (Valentine's Day; what a great day for surgery!).  I amazed myself by not being anxious that morning.  I had to stop taking all my meds the night before, and I was so out of it from the anaesthesia that I didn't take my Xanax or Prozac for several days (I was scared they would make me feel even more out of it).  Last night, I had some visitors over to check on me post-surgery.  I felt so jittery and didn't realize what was wrong with me.  I just felt wired.  One of my friends asked me if I was still taking my regular meds.  When I told him "no," he said "No wonder you're jittery.  You shouldn't just stop taking your Xanax."  I went immediately and took one, and felt better in a matter of minutes.  I had just assumed the jitteriness was from the surgery or from the steroids I was taking to control swelling.  I had no idea going off Xanax would make me feel so crazy.  But now, I've completed all the steroids, and I'm back on all my regular medications, so I feel fine again.  I still take the Xanax three times a day, and I've adjusted to it so that I don't feel "loopy" anymore (i.e. no more falling off of chairs).  

Missed Group Session

I missed the group session today because of my surgery yesterday.  I feel bad about missing a meeting, but there's nooooo way I could have gone.  I've been sleeping most of the day, and trying to sip fluids while I'm awake, but I feel queasy.  I also look like I was hit by a train, so I'm sure they're glad I wasn't there.

5th Session

I really felt I needed this session.  I've been stressed all week from various things; I've even been waking at night with my heart racing feeling as though I'm having a full-blown panic attack.  The surgery scheduled for tomorrow is one of my concerns.  I've never been under general anaesthesia before, so I'm a little scared about that.  Two nights ago, my long-distance "boyfriend" whom I met online dumped me, hanging up on me and not answering the frantic calls I made afterward.  He said he was hurt that I didn't let him come down and care for me through my surgery and he felt I was making excuses not to meet him, but I was very uncomfortable with the idea of him staying with me through surgery.  I've never met him, and even though we've talked on the phone for some time now, he still feels like a stranger in that regard.  I don't think I could be comfortable with him caring for me in such an intimate way.  Besides, I'm going to be staying with my parents for a while after surgery, and he told me he thought this was a good idea.  So I was very surprised at his outburst.  My ex was also pushing me this week to come get some things out of the house before he threw them away.  

I had completed a "homework" sheet about loss for this week, and I included on it the loss of my recent "boyfriend."  We talked about it and what his actions tell about him personally.  We also talked about losing my 20-year-old cat in November.  My ex and parents were very supportive of me during that time; they asked if they could do anything for me and treated me almost as though a person had died.  We also discussed my anxiety regarding surgery which the therapist said was a normal feeling. 

We also talked about my impressions of group therapy.  I told him how I was surprised that everyone seems so reluctant to speak; I thought it would be the opposite.  He asked why I had thought that, and I told him because I often had to fight the urge to speak.  In elementary school, I had always been the class clown.  But in seventh grade, one of my teachers had said to me, "You are so obnoxious!"  I didn't know what the word meant, so I went home and looked it up.  It was a strange moment reading the definition, as though I were seeing myself as others did for the first time.  I had never felt self-conscious before; now suddenly, I realized I was being seen in a negative light.  This single statement changed me profoundly as I left elementary school and entered high school.  The pendulum swung in the opposite direction for me, and I became quiet and withdrawn, not wanting to be obnoxious or speak out of turn.  This feeling has stuck with me into my adult life; I no longer know when to speak, what to say or not say; in other words, I don't know where that line lies in interpersonal communications, so I tend to stay as far back from it as possible.  People always comment on how quiet I am, and they think I am shy, but I simply don't know how to approach the line without crossing it.  My therapist said he wants me to share this with the group next time if I don't mind.  Maybe this will inspire a good discussion of how to discover limits in social situations.  Reflecting on the seventh-grade incident, I feel as though that teacher took a part of my personality away from me, and I think I would like to recover this and all the other parts of myself that have been taken away from me over the years.

I left feeling as though a weight had been lifted from my shoulders.  I sang along to the radio on the way home and felt very light and even joyful.  I had had a lot of doubts about the boyfriend which had been causing me stress, but now I could focus on myself for a while without worrying about him.  I decided I would take the proscribed 4 weeks of no physical activity and concentrate on simply healing myself, physically and otherwise.

2nd Group Therapy Session

Today at group, the therapist asked what we had reflected on since last group.  I mentioned that I had given some thought to the idea of what to reveal to the group.  I told them I wanted to try and be as honest and open as possible, because I thought that would be the best thing for me.  I got to test this theory when I announced that I would miss the next group meeting due to nose surgery (we're supposed to announce when we're not going to be present, and we also have to pay for the sessions we miss).  The girl asked me if it was a necessary surgery, or if it was cosmetic.  I told them that the official story was that it was a necessary surgery for my sinuses, but in actuality, it was purely cosmetic.  This revelation did not feel weird, although I still feel compelled to tell the outside world that the surgery is necessary (even my parents think it is for my sinuses).  We then talked some about body issues and how personal and painful that can be to share with others.  

The girl in the group declared there was something she wanted to talk about near the end of the session.  She revealed a death in her husband's family and the impact she feared it would have on her relationship with her husband.  She cried, and I felt very awkward because of it.  Perhaps it was because I was the only other female in the room, I felt I should be able to comfort her somehow, but I don't know how to do that.  I never had a good nurturing female role model growing up, and I feel I lack a certain ability to soothe others because of it.  I felt compassion for her, but had no clue how to translate that emotion into words or actions.  

1st Group Therapy Session

Today was my first group therapy session.  I got there early (left my house 2 hours early because I didn't know how traffic would be).  The room was set up with black leather chairs arranged in a circle.  After a few minutes, everyone arrived (1 other girl and 4 guys).  I'm pretty sure I was the oldest one there (38).

They began by introducing themselves to me.  I then introduced myself, telling them I came to therapy because of my recent divorce and the inherent stress of starting all over again after so many years (11).  I didn't mention having OCD; I wasn't sure how much I was supposed to say about myself at first.  I didn't want to seem as though I was hogging the floor.  Speaking of hogging the floor, I was surprised at how reluctant they seemed to be to talk; I had figured everyone would be dying to talk about themselves, but there were a lot of silences throughout the hour and a half session.  I tried to sit and observe mostly for the first session, just watch and see how things progressed so I would know the "rules" of speaking.  Can I just blurt something out, or do I wait to be asked?  

After the introductions, everyone moved to sit in the floor.  It was comfortable being there, although the room was a little chilly.  The therapist asked them if there were any thoughts that had come up from the last group session, and a few people reluctantly talked about what they had reflected on during the past week.  Mostly there were relationship issues, how to deal with certain stresses in their lives, and the idea of how much they would be comfortable telling in group was bounced around a little.  As I left group, this was the idea that stuck with me.  Some had said they weren't sure if they could share everything as it was happening to them with the group.  I think that the more open and honest I can be in group, the more I will be able to benefit from it.  Maybe I will test this theory at our next meeting. 

4th Session

I've been on Prozac and Xanax for almost a week now, and my psychologist could tell.  He said I seemed a bit slower and perhaps a little "spacey."  He said it was normal and would probably go away after my body adjusted to the dosage.  He also told me I didn't need to take the full dose of Xanax; it's up to me how often I need it.  I can take half a pill or a whole pill up to 3 times a day.  But if I don't feel as though I'm having any anxiety, I can cut down on it.  I told him how I fell off the desk chair twice the first night; he said that's the Xanax.  So maybe I'll take his advice and cut down on it a little.  

We went over the answers from my homework.  He had asked me to bring in pictures of my family when I was a child, but I haven't found any yet.  I don't personally own any, so I'm going to have to go to my parents' house and look for some.  I also agreed to start group therapy on the 1st of February.  They meet at 9:00 in the morning which will be a struggle for me since I live so far away, but I think this might be a good thing for me, so I'm going to do it anyway.  

On my new meds

Okay, I started taking my new meds yesterday.  I feel very sleepy and spacey and also uncoordinated.  I tried to do some work at the computer earlier, but I fell off the desk chair twice.  The second time, I just lay in the floor for a while.  It's not an uncomfortable feeling; I feel very relaxed.  Maybe just too relaxed.  I feel as though a train could crash through my wall and I would just say "far out."  

1st Visit with Psychiatrist

Today I saw the psychiatrist for the first time.  His practice is described as being "progressive," and I'm not exactly sure what that means, but his office was very mod and homey.  His receptionist seems nice, and the office has a very laid-back feeling to it.  The psychiatrist himself has a dog in his office which I thought was very cool.  He was very personable and frank, and he sat at a computer typing in my answers to his questions.  He thoroughly screened me for OCD, asking all sorts of questions about how it manifested itself in my life.  He asked if I was a germaphobe (which I'm not since I've eaten food off the floor before).  I'm not a hand-washer or a "checker" (making sure the oven's off, etc.).  I guess I'm concerned more with numbers, evenness, and symmetry.  When I pass a road sign or see a box of cereal, I have to pair up the letters to ensure that there are an even number of letters.  When someone speaks, I pair up the syllables in their sentence.  If words or syllables are odd in number, I have to make it even by adding a word.

After his lengthy questioning, he turned to me and began discussing medications that could be useful to me.  He prescribed Xanax (generic Alprazolam) and Prozac (generic Fluoxetine), the Xanax being for anxiety (which makes the OCD worse), and the Prozac for the OCD itself.  I'll start by taking one Prozac (20mg) a day for the first week.  Thereafter, I'll take 2 a day.  The Xanax (0.5mg) is 1 pill 3 times a day.  I asked him if I could chew these or open a capsule into something like applesauce since I have problems swallowing pills.  He's the first doctor in my life that has not been surprised by that question.  He told me I could chew the Xanax (although it will taste bad), and I can open the Prozac capsule into juice or another liquid to take.  He asked me if I had a fear of choking, and I admitted I did.  When my mother would get really mad at me as a child, she would sometimes put her hands around my neck as though she were going to choke me.  Even now, I don't like anyone putting his hands on my neck, and I don't wear short necklaces or tight round shirt collars.  The psychiatrist is used to people who have such fears and knows exactly how we can take each med.  He said the drugs should start to help within a month, so I'll see him again on February 21 to discuss my results.  

I really liked the psychiatrist, and drove home feeling very hopeful that my life was beginning to move in the right direction.  

3rd Session

I was actually on time to my therapy session today!  I have to drive all the way across town to get there, but I gave myself extra time today because I hate being late (not to mention that I have to pay for the full session whether I'm there or not).  I had trouble completing the buttons and triggers questions from the last homework.  I can't really think of what pushes my buttons, although I'm sure there are things that do.  He instructed me to pay attention to what I'm feeling as I try to answer the questions, whereas I had just been focused on answering them.  He wants me to think about what emotions and memories the questions invoke, and whether they open up doors that have perhaps been closed or unvisited for some time.  

We discussed the possibility of me joining group therapy as well.  He thinks it might be beneficial for me to hear what other people have to say who are perhaps dealing with some of the same relationship and personal issues as I am.  I don't believe any of them have OCD, so I'm not sure how it will help me, but I trust my therapist and think it might be interesting.  It will also be cheaper if I can replace some of his sessions with group sessions since they're less than half the cost and last an hour and a half as opposed to 45 minutes.  I told him I would think about it, and he gave me some papers to read about how group therapy works.  He gives me more homework, a sheet of questions on "Healthy Protest - Anger & Assertiveness."

  

2nd Session

I was late to my second session (very late, actually, because of an accident on the expressway), so we didn't have much time (again!) to talk.  But we went over the homework I had completed and discussed the possibility of my seeing a psychiatrist as well.  He explained that the most effective treatment for me would probably be a mixture of medication and therapy.  I asked about the side effects of the drugs, and he assured me that they're much better these days; people are not sitting around drooling on themselves anymore.  I told him I was worried about losing my creativity, as I'm a poet currently working on a novel.  He said he didn't think the meds would interfere with that.  Since I haven't been able to write in a long time anyway due to the lists, I figured it couldn't hurt to try medication.  He referred me to a psychiatrist and told me he would call ahead and discuss my case with him (I had to sign a waiver to allow him to do this).  I'll call sometime this week and make an appointment.  Before I left, he gave me more homework, this time a sheet of questions relating to "buttons and triggers."  

1st Session

Today was my first session with the psychologist.  I didn't know what to expect.  Most of my ideas of what psychologists do come from TV and movies (The Bob Newhart Show, One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest).  I did sit on a leather sofa (although I didn't recline like one of Freud's patients).  He sat across from me in a chair that looked like it came from IKEA.  His office is small and unpretentious; he doesn't even have a receptionist.  I found I liked him, that his personality and manner seemed compatible with mine.  He seems very intelligent and thoughtful.  He didn't take notes during the session (which I guess I had expected him to do because of media depictions of psychologists).  Instead, he seemed to pay complete attention to me, maintaining eye contact and even making sympathetic gestures.  I guess I had expected someone more aloof.  

We talked about my symptoms, my divorce, a brief overview of what's going on with me lately and what I might could gain from therapy.  I was late to the appointment because I got lost, so we didn't have the full 45 minutes.  But it was enough time for me to decide I liked him, that I could talk to him honestly and openly (at least I'm going to try my best in this regard), and so I made a second appointment with him for next week.  He gave me some "homework" to do, a sheet of questions to answer concerning my experiences with forming relationships and getting support from others.  I consider myself to be quite introspective naturally, but the questions seem to help me focus on things I might not otherwise have given much thought to.  

Beginning Therapy

Okay, tomorrow is my first appointment with my therapist.  I found him on the internet by googling "therapist" and "OCD."  It looks as though he's had some experience treating this disorder, so I figured I would give him a shot.  I realize I may need medication which will have to be prescribed by a psychiatrist, but I want to talk to the therapist first.  I've always been afraid of going on meds because I've heard how they can turn you into a zombie which is not exactly the effect I'm looking for.  If I could control the OCD, I wouldn't even be going to this appointment tomorrow.  But I've given up trying to ignore it or control it myself.  It's just not possible.

I've had OCD since I was a kid, but it never bothered me that much back then.  I used to count the number of words people said, or I would have to say things a certain number of times (if not out loud, at least in my head).  I also had rituals like the bedtime ritual where I had to look at each corner of the room's ceiling and then the center before closing my eyes.  If I opened my eyes again before falling asleep, I had to do the ritual all over again.  Things got much worse for me when I was 23.  I went through a period of intense stress (mostly over a relationship, but other things were going on too), and I developed new symptoms that would eventually take over my life.  I began making lists in my head.  These lists were "magical thinking" lists, as I would imagine them taking place as I named each item.  For example, the list could be a litany of things that were wrong with me physically (nose too big, ears stick out, zits, etc. etc.).  I would sometimes hold my breath going through the list until my heart would pound or skip a beat, reminding me of reality for a moment.  But as I went through the list, I would imagine my nose becoming perfect, my ears becoming perfect, etc.  Of course, I knew in my rational mind that nothing was changing, but I couldn't stop myself from going through the lists.  One time it was a list of banks and the amount of money I had in each one (I actually had no money in any of them).  The lists demanded to be cycled through every day; a stressful day would involve many more cycles than a good day.  The lists have made it difficult for me to function on a day-to-day basis.  I feel as though my life is passing me by and I'm just sitting and watching it pass.

The breaking point for me came when I got a divorce.  I knew I would need to depend on myself now, financially and otherwise.  It's been a while since I've had a job, and it was difficult in the past to keep a job.  As soon as I would get bored at work, I would spend all day making lists and the quality of my work would start a downward spiral.  So I'm forced to do something.  I'm moving into my own apartment next week, and I have to find a way to be productive.