Oh I Wish I Was A Flying Pink Unicorn...

Well, I am sure some of you who read my blog have been thinking...DAYUM! This girl has some drama! And maybe you've even thought...She may want to invest in a good therapist. And I got to thinking after this last big clusterfuck of an argument with my dad and sister...You know, behind every person who really has their shit together is a great therapist. I know the saying says that behind every great man is a better woman or something, but clearly, that is wrong. So after enough nervous breakdowns, after being told time and time again that I am the problem in my life, it was time to get a professional's opinion. After all, just 2 days after my most recent argument with my father, he was calling my husband and urging that I "get some serious help" because my medications are obviously "out of whack." Little did he know that I had already made the call and was quite looking forward to meeting my knight in shining Audi (or whatever uber expensive car he drives since he is obviously loaded).

When I made the call, he told me that he didn't have any immediate openings but was happy to put me on a "wait list." At that point, I was sold. I mean, if anything has a wait list, you know it's money. He said that it would be probably 2 weeks before I'd get a call for an appointment, but I honestly did not give a shit. I was willing to wait it out. I had just enough Xanax to get me by and plenty of tequila for back-up. Right? Well, I had lost track of time, and by the end of the second week I started to think that maybe my number had gotten lost in the shuffle of his insanely popular office desk. He called on a Saturday to say that he had ONE appointment available, and I told him I'd take it. He tripped a bit over himself and said, "Well, um, uh, it's Monday...at 1:00...does that work for you?" Yeah, because Monday at 1 pm works for every mom of a toddler with a working husband and no childcare provider...I told him I would Tim Gunn-it, you know, "make it work." So he emailed me 4 pages of paperwork to fill out, detailing my family history, etc.

I was given four lines to explain my reason for coming to see him. FOUR LINES. I had no idea what to write...So I just started laughing and thinking of witty remarks to put there instead: "See my blog." "Not enough space provided." "My family is fucking nuts." I settled on a brief summary of the most recent debacle regarding my sister's wedding. I also had to fill out the family history of mental illness, which took up nearly a full page. AWESOME! I figured he would look at my paperwork when I got there, and I would literally see dollar signs in his eyes...

Well, on D-Day, I drove my crazy ass downtown, parked in a parking garage and got lost. Literally, IN the parking garage. Then, when I finally figured out how to get into the building, I couldn't find his name on the list of codes...So I panicked. Of course! Perfect! Panic attack 20 minutes before initial psych appointment. Classic. I figured there must be some way around the code thing, and so I went out on the street and found the main entrance to the building...PHEW. Hubby was meeting me there to baby swap so that I could actually have a productive appointment, which was perfect. So please allow me to set this hilarious scene for you.

I realized just 5 minutes before my appointment was scheduled to start that I needed to boob the baby. So I figured doctors always run late. No big deal. I'll pop her on for a few minutes on each side and be ready to go whenever he shows up...NOT! The dude comes hobbling out, perfectly on time...on crutches with an air cast on one leg...and with me...baby attached to boob. Awkward! He said, "Um, well, it looks like you're in the middle of something. Would you like me to give you a few minutes?" I didn't care, so I walked baby-on-boob, following behind his crippled ass back to his office. I plopped down on the lime green infamous sofa and asked Hubby to dole out the paperwork...which was in my Pampered Chef catalog that I had taken to lunch with one of my girlfriends.

I must say, it was love at first appointment, honestly. This guy was definitely worth the wait. And to top it off, he's easy on the eyes...BONUS! I told him that I half-expected him to tell me that I was a flying pink unicorn, prescribe me some great meds, and send me on my crazy delusional way...Unfortunately, though, he says I'm not crazy. He said I have a lot of crazy going on around me, which apparently makes me think I am crazy, which ironically, is normal. He tells me medication isn't going to fix what is going on with me, and I know he's right. So, for now, I will continue to live in my medicated world while also meeting with him on the regular to try to sort my shit out...And seriously, it is the best decision I have ever made, not only for me, but for my family.

Here's to therapy!