Monday, June 29, 2009

Woe Is Me

It's really exhausting being crazy in our modern age. It's one thing to actually live crazy, get through the drudgeries of daily life with troubling thoughts and feelings chained around my neck like an anchor. But on top of that I have to deal with the fucking quagmire that is the mental healthcare system in this country. Note to mental health professionals: Hi!...I'm insane. How many times do I have to tell you that I'm paralyzed with dread and self-loathing before you'll lift a finger to help me? Why are you making this so fucking hard for me? Does it feel good to fuck with the crazies? No wonder schizophrenic people fall through the cracks, so to speak, in our society. I'm lucid and marginally functional and I can't seem to get the help I need.

Yes, I'm seeing a therapist and that's all well and good. He had this bright idea that I needed to consult with a psychiatrist about possible medication as an adjunct therapy for what he initially thought was clinical depression and has since suggested may be some type of thought disorder. As you know, I have medical insurance through my husband's company. Medical insurance which he pays out a good deal of money for every month. That's fine with me. Our health is well-worth the investment. But it's infuriating to me that upon obtaining the list of in-network psychiatrists and proceeding to call all of them, not a single one of them would see me. Of course, my mind goes to the dark places and I start to have mild paranoid delusions that there is some way these people know that it's ME calling and I are like, "No way, Jose, am I seeing this worthless, poor excuse for a human being."

I let my therapist know about this "trouble" I was having getting anyone to consult with me on my pathetic issues. Despite his sympathetic remarks, I think he was really skeptical and believed that I actually had not called any of them due to fear, stubborness, low self-esteem or whatever. He offered, as he should, to call them for me and see if he couldn't get me an appointment using his figurative weight as a psychologist. Great.

Well, after two weeks of him calling these psychiatrists, he gets zero phone calls back from any of them. NONE. NADA. See? They just know that I'm the one begging like a little bitch for some relief from my incessant mental suffering. I said to him, "Now do you believe me when I tell you these things?" He just gives me that tight smile he always gives me when I say something that's absolutely right even though it should be absolutely crazy. That happens a lot. I know it's killing him that my paranoid delusions are turning out to be not so paranoid after all.

So my therapist gives me the phone number of a psychiatrist that doesn't take my insurance but would hopefully be willing to work something out with me from a financial perspective. So, I called this guy and guess what? His secretary was a total bitch. I explained my situation and she said, "Well his fee is $300 for the consultation and $2oo for any follow up half hour sessions." Three hundred dollars. Three hundred dollars. I hate to be crass but I'm not paying anybody three hundred dollars to spend time with me unless I'm going to get several orgasms out of the deal. Maybe that's what I really need. Orgasm therapy. mmmm....doesn't that sound nice?

Anyway, back to fucking reality which pretty much sucks. I explained that I didn't exactly have $300 just right now. This bitch of a secretary is all "That's the fee and you have to pay it before I can even make you an appointment." That's it. Harsh reality of the world. Give me $300 and I'll talk to you and maybe prescribe a medication that will maybe help you to feel better. Fuck that. Fuck this bitch and her little prickly attitude towards a mental patient with suicidal feelings.

I'm sitting here just floored about the fact that I actually have health insurance and these are the kind of hoops I'm jumping through to try to feel like a normal person who smiles and actually means it. I'm just going to put this out there even though it's going to make me sound like a shitty person. Well a more shitty person. I know a guy who is on public assistance. He sees a psychiatrist every month for free. What is wrong with this picture? Oh yeah, it's me. I'm the thing that's wrong in the picture.

Truthfully, all of this uphill climbing is exhausting. I don't even know if I can do it anymore. I'm ready to give up on this nonsense of wanting to live and just accept that I don't want to live but I just fucking have to or everybody will hate my guts or the memory of them anyway. I would love so much if I could have a soul extraction and just be a type of robot programmed to do the steps of living and maybe some extra stuff also like flying and mind reading and sexual irresistibleness. Is that even a word? I don't care. And if I don't care about words, you know I'm having a fucking problem.


  1. Two words: Medical doctor. Call him today.

  2. Yeah, I'd call your doctor. Better yet, send him a copy of this post. It's a cry for help that clearly isn't coming.

    If you are honest with him about your suicidal thoughts, he'd better fucking act. It's his job to do so. He may want to see you before making the calls, though. Ride that train if it comes.

    (sorry for all the orgasmic language . . . all this stuff about coming . . .

    Anyway, fire your shrink. If he's not willing to do all within his power to get you an appointment, especially when he's the one that is making the referral, then he doesn't deserve the money you're giving him.

    And write me if things get bad . . .

  3. The best mental health care I ever received was while I was dirt poor.

    Does your area have a mental health crisis team? Because that's what my sister called, for me, when I was unwell. They cut through the bullshit awfully fast.

    Either way, don't do anything rash and/or sudden, OK? Because there are WAY too many people in the world that want to help you in any way they can.

  4. A good therapist will have connections. Yours obviously doesn't. There's no way you should have to do that kind of leg work. Find another therapist as soon as you can.

  5. I heartily second all of the above suggestions, and I hope you find some help soon. Your therapist isn't doing his job, and you need more help than he's willing or able to give you. Call your doc and check out some suicide hotlines or mental health crisis options. Please?

  6. This situation is like the police not doing anything about an abusive husband until the wife is dead. And then everyone's all Why didn't someone DO something?
    It almost makes you feel like the person who wrote on their headstone "I told you I was sick."

  7. Insurance bullshit sucks. I agree with calling your MD. Mine helped me when I couldn't get anyone else to.

  8. I had a similar issue. If you call the insurance company and let them know that you called everyone within 20 miles in your network and none are taking new patients, often they will let you choose one and they will let you pay as though you are in network.
    I had this issue and had the ins. company actually find me someone. That is what they are there for. Good luck!!!

  9. All I can say is I'm glad I live in Canada, where who accepts what coverage isn't an issue. Really, that you have a list of doctors you can call and a list you have to pay for out of pocket is foreign to me.

    Someone suggested your GP (family doctor). What if they called on your behalf? I mean, MD to MD, you know?

  10. A soul extraction sounds pretty good to me. T

    This is what pisses me off about health care in the U.S. Everything costs money and people can't get well and that's crap.

  11. I went to the therapist to talk and to my general md to get meds. Especially if you are seeing a therapist, drs. are pretty free with the meds. Skip the psychiatrist and save yourself the 300.

  12. I came home from my psychiatrist's office today on a whole new level of pissed off and started writing a post about the severe bad taste the healthcare system leaves in my mouth.

    I came across your blog today through MongolianGirl's site and timing couldn't have been better. You and I are in the same boat. Thank you for what you write. I'll keep reading...

  13. The reason I say go to an MD is that mine has been far more helpful to me than my therapist ever was. FAR. He helped me experiment with different drug choices until I found one that worked, and he spent hours working with me.

  14. I'm so sorry you're feeling this way. I don't think your therapist is doing all he can. I just don't understand this. Living under a different kind of system for so long now has just made me realize how fucked up our system in the U.S. is. I know that doesn't help you or make you feel any better, I'm sorry.