A white sign hangs over the doorway announcing to the world that this is where 'troubled' people parade through. A whiff of burnt tobacco clings to the entrance. A group of smokers congregate outside despite the now visible white sign in red letters forbidding this behavior. A tough looking young man holds open the door for me. I smile and thank him looking him in the eyes.
The temporary stench and sting of urine greets one as the public restrooms are passed. A lot has changed in 5 years around the Psych Center but some things remain stable, the group of bilingual women who receive and manage the cast of characters who walk through the doors of the clinic. They are always gracious and responsive. These women are the gatekeepers and theirs is not an easy job. I am not alone in appreciating their presence. They give me preferential service for many reasons, not the least that I may be one of the few who truly can appreciate the enormity of their job and less than ideal working environment. For every scheduled appointment I receice a phone call of confirmation usually from Virginia or Raquel
Upon entering the clinic, depending about the time of day, it's fairly busy but restrained There are the group home individuals with severe and crippling disabilities who are sheperded by a residential social worker to their appointments. There are the court-ordered rascals and rascalettes who are mandated into treatment. There are the local parolees from the jail. There are the street drug and alcohol support groups. Almost every patient/client speaks Spanish because in Lawrence, Spanish is the first language. I'm one of the few exceptions.
Can you believe that Lawrence has one of the best mental health clinics around? What brings me here month after month, week after week? There is a certain breed of quality physicians and staff who treat the sick and the poor. It's more than altruism, it's a vocation. Once upon a time, I had the elite priveledge of having private psychiatry, but the system and a dysfunctional approach to mental health, has put an end to that. However, I'd travel to the ends of the earth to maintain th medical relationship of 15 years with my psychiatrist. Obviously, I have.
Treatment with only drugs is a half-assed solution. Talk therapy is critical in order to claim one's life back. Having the right doctor and counselor is essential. Being a private patient for 10 years made a huge difference in the quality of my recovery. Fortunately, as India-born, this psychiatrist is well-versed in psychotherapy and psycho-pharmacology but he is also from a culture that encourages introspection. I am an introspective individual. It's just the way I'm designed. "The unexaminded life is not worth living."etc. etc.
I've been willing to make some very hard sacrifices in order to continue to get the best, insightful medical care from this psychiatrist. I understand it makes the difference between having the life of a destiny or becoming a bitter and angry woman with a plenora of masks. The choice is that clear to me. I take this disease seriously and with a profound respect. I have no issues about making commitments or about being loyal. I would follow him to the ends of the earth which apparently I've done without fear.
Now, I'm breaking in a new counselor. I'm struggling with how to make these therapeutic talk sessions beneficial to us both. I had such a rich and fulfilling female couselor until recently.This is my first male counselor and he is a much younger man but with a thoughtful and calm nature. Bright and intellegent, a framed diploma indicates he's a graduate of Columbia University Graduate School. Perhaps in another time, he'd be a minister or a theologian. I see him as "The Thinker", for he often adopts that thoughtful pose while listening to me speak. I call him "Counselor" which elicits a smile of amusement from him for this Counslor is serious, pragmatic and well grounded. He also uses technology in our sessions as feedback. This isn't new, per say, the setting of goals, gauging the mood temperature, or identifying complicated hardship issues or situations. It's how he is usuing techology as a feedback mechanism that is new for me. The application of technology for theraputic sessions is intriguing on a whole new level.
"The good news", he announces, "is that you are less depressed than you were three months ago." How can this be good news? Then, I was coming off a joyful Christmas and a vacation in the DR. I wasn't feeling depressed until when exactly? What triggered it? Does it even matter? It's a low level cycle that leaves me mostly unmotivated except for writing and some socializing. Writers spend a tremendous time alone.
I haven't felt a real connection to him yet. As a consequence I've changed appointments with him on more than one occasion. Cancelling is not my ordinary behavior. I mention this to the psychiatrist after we have tweaked the medication regime. Those changes are precribed and duly noted. As I leave, this pyschiatrist who knows me better than most men, says as I'm exiting his office:
Give him a chance. Find a way to make it work. And, I suggest you make dating a hobby", he says with a smile. It's time.
I wasn't expecting that from the psychiatrist. Sounds and feels promising. How does one make dating a hobby? All systems are go. Forward. Skip lightly into the future unburdened from the past.
Chasing down the meaning of 'psychological' in the dictionary, I learn that 'psych' is an informal expression of the noun psychology: to put in the right frame of mind. 'Psyche' is also a noun that refers to the spirit or soul. It's the mind functioning as the center of thought, emotion and behavior. It is from the Greek word psukhe (spirt). Psychiatritry is the branch of medicine that deals with the diagnosis and treatment and prevention of mental and emotional disorders.
Ah, the dictionary. One of the Divine's favorite books!
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