Time To Call In A Professional

A month ago after my fifth close friend gentle suggested, “Maybe you should talk to somebody?” I actively began researching my health insurance’s mental health coverage. For about 10 months my usually sunny disposition has been slightly veiled in gray and I have taken to silently sobbing at my desk – that’s never a good sign. Mix that all up with yesterday’s direct blow to my heart and head and we have a perfect storm of emotional devastation.

I can’t ignore it anymore or continue to burden my supportive friends, I have to make the call and get my head back in gear. I reviewed my insurance website and after becoming increasingly overwhelmed by the “Find a Physician” tool I decided to choose my therapist in the same manner as I chose all of my other physicians; Female, Upper East Side, and Jewish last name. I have a short list of three candidates and fingers crossed one will have space in her schedule for my crazy ass.

I’m not sure what to say when I call, do I just say “Hey…. I think I’m broken, can your doctor help me?” Swason told me last night that I shouldn’t feel anxious about making the call cause the receptionist probably gets newbie calls like mine all the time. Swason also suggested that I may want to lead with “Hi, I’m a middle aged single woman living in New York City and I’m sad”, that way I get ‘fast tracked’. She also she reminded me that I’m not gonna be telling the doctor anything she hasn’t heard before, I’m not the MOST fucked up woman in this city. How does Swason know all these truths? She constantly amazes me.

Since Swason has been my lead therapist for the past several years I was hoping she could send my new Doc. her outline for getting me back on track:

1. Tell me I’m an idiot as I enter the room

2. Instruct me to drink at least a half bottle of wine

3. Listen to my problem

4. Tell me I’m an idiot (again)

5. Instruct me to “Kick (insert offending person’s name) in the head!!”

Unfortunately Swason did not acquiesce to my request; however I’m rather certain that she will still imbue me with copious amounts of wine on Monday nights even after my head is properly shrunken by a professional.

Lastly Swason suggested that I re-title my Blog “Just Call me Shirley” considering that the origin of the title “Want My Slaw” is a due to a long ago conversation with the Invisible Man. Why “Just Call me Shirley”? I have NO CLUE, but at the moment it was suggested it seemed very reasonable – it is under consideration.