And by girl, I mean me. And by shrink, well, you probably can figure that part out. Okay. So maybe the post title is a little bit of an exaggeration, but on a more serious note, remember how I mentioned my psychologist was off visiting a far-away paradise? Well, I saw him today, and it turns out he's moving there. Soon.
Girl abandoned by shrink. Figures.
It seemed somewhat miraculous that I was finally actually able to find a therapist who was not a floppy fish, who did not just nod phlegmatically as I ran my mouth (or sat silent, squirming and fidgeting on their couch).
I know it's not so bad, but really, I'm feeling a little panicked. I feel like I'm going to have to resort to my last technique which is biased and I'm not sure if it actually works well, which involves consulting the local mental health agency's guide to therapists. Basically I go down the list, I cross off all the people who do not have Ph.D.s, and then I cross off all the people who don't accept my insurance. Then I pick up the phone and start going down the list.
I don't know if I've written about this before, or if I've been re-inspired by RS, but I'm a strong advocate for some kind of therapist speed dating program. And by speed "dating" I don't really mean dating; I don't want to date my therapist. But, to be able to talk to someone for three minutes and move on to the next, well, it might actually be enough of an interview to figure out if there's potential for a relationship that works.
Unfortunately, though, I doubt anyone will ever do speed-find-a-therapist, or whatever we should call it. It seems like everyone has a waiting list a mile high and two months long.
What to do? What to do... girl abandoned by shrink.