I had quite a productive day in my humble estimation. I went to classes, managed to remember to record
Passions (sadly, watching this show is one of the highlights of my day) before I left, and worked inbetween classes. My last class of the day is
Geology 101 or as it is sometimes referred to, Rocks for Jocks. I need one easy class a semester, found that one out the hard way. The geology
professor was really
animated, that's really the best word to describe him, which is a good thing because I can easily see how a
monotone professor could make the study of rocks really, really boring.
Anyhow, one of my good friends is in the class with me and I'd talked to her the night before how I needed to get some counseling for my messed up head, and she very nicely volunteered to take me over to the health center to make an appointment. It was an offer I couldn't refuse, and I was really glad that she was there because if I'd been by myself I don't think I could have gone through with filling out the paperwork. It seems so strange to put down the things that you're going through on paper. One of the sheets contained probably about 60 different "concerns" you might have and you had to circle 1-5 based on how concerned you were with this, but I had to analyze them all. "Pregnancy"...nope, don't have to worry about that since I'm a virgin; "Anxiety"...I'm in the school of engineering aren't I?; "Suicidal Thoughts"...well yeah, that IS the reason I'm here but I don't want to seem too nutty so I'll put down 4. It's just strange to see everything so cut and dried like that.
I guess they read my sheet and decided that I was really screwed up so they wanted to see me right away. (Actually, I'm sure they just wanted to cover their asses in case I went home and killed myself after making an appointment for next week.) The therapist was pretty nice, a lady probably in her thirties somewhere but I'm a horrible judge of age. She asked me how it felt to be depressed and it's so hard to put down things that occur only in your head into words so I managed something like, "It's like I'm looking and thinking through liquid." No, I haven't been to a therapist before...No, I haven't been sexually abused...Yes, I've cut myself...Yes I've thought about suicide. Then she asked me about the thoughts which I have detailed here and I told her and she's like, "You put a lot of thought into that." Yeah. And then she asked me if I would do it which I interpreted to mean "Are you going to off yourself in the near future?" to which I answered, "Not if I were thinking rationally."
Then came the obligatory questions about use of psychotrophic substances which was a whole new can of worms and I told the truth about it and probably came out sounding way more crazy than I actually am, but no matter. Anyhow, apparently I do too many drugs and drink for Prozac and kin which was good because that meant that I didn't have to talk someone out of putting me on those things. I refuse to be on your government-sanctioned numb pills. I want to feel happy, not nothing at all and I've heard stories of personal Prozac hell of the craziness of experimenting with which one works for you and dosages. And apparently, she thinks my drug use is causing the depression. Yeah, that explains the anorexic 11 year-old who was obsessed with the end of the world and the anorexic 13 year-old who found out that no matter how thin she got it wouldn't make her happy and the 14 year-old who cried every day and the 16 year-old who cut herself fairly often with scissors. The 17 year-old started taking psychedelics and I believe that they actually helped me through some of my problems, at least temporarily. When I was tripping on acid and looking at myself in a mirror not as if I was looking at myself but as someone else, I was able to see myself in the ways that others saw me and it wasn't that bad. Others who look at you don't pick apart every little flaw that they find as you do with yourself. Thinking of this today still takes the edge off of some of that biting self-criticism. Now the 19 year-old is depressed and as close to suicidal as she's ever been, but I had a good run there.
So I said I'd lay off of drugs for a while, which is an outright lie. DJ Spree is playing in the city of love this weekend and I'm definately planning on rolling, but after that it will be no problem. So it's not a total lie I guess, I'll just ravage those serotonin levels once more and we'll see. I totally think that this theory is bullshit, but I'm going back anyway. I'm just hoping that this will help. Maybe I'm too optimistic, seeing therapy as this modern panacea to the ennui of the age, hoping that I'll go talk to someone with a PhD for a few hours and everything will be all right...