Another mental health post. I have no idea if there are triggers.

If you recently followed this blog but weren’t prepared for and don’t want discussions about mental health, no worries. Just wait until I post about something else. 🙂 It’ll probably be about mental health for a few days, but who knows? I don’t.

For years I have blogged about the difficulty impossibility of getting any kind of therapy (let alone medication) for my mental health. The lack of services, year-long wait lists, my not having money, my insurance being the wrong insurance, not having insurance, not being addicted, not, not, not…  A week ago I started the calling places again. The one place that I know takes Medicaid told me they don’t do “diagnosis.” That just confused me, and I asked several times, in different ways, “You don’t have someone who can say, “You’re depressed or you have PTSD”? Nope.

I needed someone who could do that. No one takes Medicaid. Out of pocket ranged from $400 to $700 for one, initial session. Yeah, no. Something compelled me to look at the website for the non-profit clinic that said they didn’t do assessments. Right there, listed under adult services was Psychiatric Assessment! Oy. Vey. So I called back, and they did an intake. Without me looking at that web page, I still wouldn’t have any help.*

I’ve known since Friday that I was going to do an initial, in person, intake this morning. I think that is what prompted me to write the post about PTSD yesterday. The idea of the office visit freaked me out, and it took me a while to understand why: I’m barely functioning right now.  I’m terrified to “go there” with someone about my emotions. I am terrified that I will lose all control. Things are bad enough with just a tad of control.

So, I had some mild PTSD because I wrote and relived my attack. Then I freaked out about today’s visit with a therapist. I’ve had virtually no sleep. Brains are weird (but tasty if you’re a zombie).

I had to fill out about twenty pages (literally) of forms and questionnaires. I then saw someone who does a two-part intake. We went over my past history. Some of the current history. Then next week is the final intake and it has something to do with my living situation. I dunno. From there they then determine how nuts I am and create a therapy course.

Sitting in the waiting room, I nearly had a panic attack, because… since this is a low-income clinic that takes Medicaid, there were a lot of old people there. Older than me. Three of them were talking together about where and how they lived. No one drove. It was one of my nightmares. I had to do controlled breathing. Just sad old people, in bad shape, from depressing housing, with mental or addiction issues (or else they wouldn’t be there at that clinic).

*To be fair, I have interviewed for a position in this clinic. They were upfront about their pay. It is horrible. They want and need skilled people but can only pay what you’d get working for McDonald’s. Full time work at that pay rate won’t pay the rent on an average, small, cruddy apartment here.

2 Comments

  1. At least you were finally able to take the first step – which is very real progress given all of the uncertainty in your life.
    About the seeing your future in the old people – the thing I’ve realized since passing 60 is that I see old people, but I don’t yet see me as that old. I don’t see an old spouse yet & he’s edging in on 70. It’s only when I see a recent photo that I see it. I guess my point is that although they were old people, they may not have been as old as you perceived. Especially if they are grappling with things that age you & make you look older. But either way – getting old under the best of circumstances is not for the faint-hearted.

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