My first appointment with Dr. Murphy.

I didn't expect to like her. I didn't expect to enjoy it. I've been over this procedure many, many times, and my hatred for it has increased over the years. I've seen numerous psychiatrists, I've taken countless different types of medication, I've told my story a thousand times, yet it felt different this time.

On the way there, I told my mom, "If she doesn't look friendly, I want you to come back with me. I'll tell you." This, as always, is a situation where I "judge a book by its cover," so to speak. Usually, I'm right about my judgements in these situations. If they have a sour expression on their face, as if this is a huge chore and they'd rather be somewhere else, I know automatically that I won't enjoy them, and they won't enjoy me. I've had far too many doctors like that.

Dr. Murphy opened the door and called my name. She is an older lady, but very pretty, though she didn't look very happy. Not that I expect anyone to be super cheerful; who really wants to go to work? Anyway, I was going to bring my mom back with me, but she asked to speak to me alone first. I went, telling her it was nice to meet her, and from that, she seemed to warm up a bit. Her office was big and bright, with a blue and green couch and a black leather chair. She asked me to sit in the chair, next to the computer, so she could take notes on what we talk about. I glanced at the clock. She came and got me on time, which is extremely rare, going by doctors I've seen before.

She started off by stating everything she knew by the bit of information my primary care doctor gave her office over the phone. "I can't really read this handwriting, but I think it says 'BP'. Bipolar?"

I shrugged. "Everyone seems to think that, but I haven't had an official diagnosis. Or maybe I have. My current psychiatrist is pretty... tight-lipped about everything. She doesn't explain things to me."

"I see." She typed some information into the computer, and then asked who I was seeing. Her eyebrows shot up at the mention of my doctor, Michelle Hubner. "I hear she's a great doctor."

I shrugged again. "Maybe for some people, but I don't really get along with her well. She doesn't really listen to me. When she tells me she wants me to try a new medication, even when I tell her I don't feel ready for it, or I don't want to try it, or I don't think it's right for me, she doesn't pay attention, and gives it to me anyway. I always feel obligated to give it a chance, and it always throws me off-balance. I hate it."

"Maybe she has you on the wrong medication."

And so our conversation continued, for over an hour, and she asked me so many questions, but they weren't as irritating as before. Something about the way she asked them, the way she patiently waited for my answers changed it for me. When I didn't know how to answer her question, she'd give me examples, or she'd list off "options" for me to choose from, which was a great help.

We discussed my anxiety, and I told her all about it, as truthfully as I could. After typing what I'd told her into the computer, she opened a medical dictionary and read me the definition of 'anxiety,' and then she turned to 'social phobia,' also known as 'social anxiety disorder,' and she read that to me, too. Anxiety, not so much. Social phobia, that fit... everything. Every single thing I do and feel and the way I act.

There was a lot more we discussed, but I don't really feel comfortable putting it here. It was a long meeting, and I feel more enlightened from it.

At the end, another doctor came in and talked to me about everything we'd gone over, and asked if I planned to come back. I do. He was very sweet, and seemed to know how I felt, so he didn't do anything that could've possibly intimidated me. It was nice. I really wanted to hug him.

My final diagnosis for today ended up as social phobia, and bipolar I. Somehow, I expected it. The past few years, people have been throwing around the suggestion, and I've wondered if it could be possible. It runs in the family. My mother sees a carbon copy of her sister in me. That idea has scared me; I love my aunt, but I've always seen her as my "crazy" aunt. It bothers me that my mother sees that in me. It makes me wonder if I scare my family from time to time with the way I act, the things I say. I wish I could apologize, and I've tried, but she always tells me that it isn't my fault. I still feel like it is.

I have another appointment with her on November 6th. By then, I'll have my medical records transferred to her office, and I'll have told Dr. Hubner that I won't be seeing her anymore. I have an appointment with her next week.


I can finally breathe a sigh of relief. I know what I have, and it is something they are sure of now. It is something they can treat. It is something I can get a hold on, if I want to. She told me many times that no one can force me to take the medication. If I feel like my best route is to not take medication for bipolar or depression or anything, that is up to me.

I don't really know what I'll do. I want to stay on my medication for anxiety; it helps. And I want to treat anything else I may have, but I've been on these medications before. Many of them. I know what most of them do to me. I know how... incapable they make me feel. I know that won't last forever, but it's hard to let yourself feel so hopeless, you know? To know what is making you feel this way, and to keep pulling yourself into it. I know that once the side effects go away and it is in my blood steadily, if I'd give it a chance to work, it could. I just never give it the chance.

I'm going to tell her that in November, I won't be ready for it. In November, I'll have a thousand other things going on and I don't want new medication to potentially handicap me during this time. I have too much to focus on. December, though... I'll be willing.


Ah, I need to make dinner and read and sleep. I have to wake up early. Goodnight.


edit: Something I wanted to add, something I noticed myself doing today... Eye contact?! It was weird. I never make eye contact, yet I was today, with both doctors. Hm.

Also, I'm feeling... off. Sad. Lonely, I think.

Blue October, I love you.

"I've gotta learn
To live and dream
Before I go
And get myself in love."

Srsly. :/