It seemed like I was waiting forever for this appointment. There were times over the past few weeks that I just wasn’t sure I could make it! I don’t know what I thought would happen, other than that I would die before the appointment date. Then I was concerned about interacting with the therapist, someone I didn’t know, had never met. Her first name was Lisa and her last name was hyphenated and something I couldn’t pronounce. But I was ready to go, as planned, to allow a half hour for me to find a parking place and to find the office once I got inside the building.
From her photo, I was expecting a 30-something woman with long dark hair. The woman who came out into the waiting room at 1:30 had long salt-and-pepper hair, wore a long skirt, and looked to be early 50s. She was professional, as expected.
One of the first things she said was to inform me that these sessions would be 30 minutes, not 60 minutes. She had my history of having gone through the Union City Pain Management Program in 2018 and, this year, the nine-week Depression Group at Union City.
At one point, she mentioned medications and I said I’m trying to get off the medications I’m on, not add more! I let her know that what I wanted/needed more than anything is to figure out why I can’t motivate myself to do daily walking. I gave her a brief history of my job-related traumas (losing my full-time job in 2012, losing my biggest web client in 2016) and feeling like I have passed my usefulness in the workforce.
So she ended up giving me an assignment: to walk on Mondays and Thursdays. And to be clear about what I needed: socks and shoes, sunglasses, water bottle. And to schedule the walk to be at the same time every day.
The session went over an hour, but I know to not expect that every time or next time. I’m thankful for this experience, as short-lived as it may be, or for as long as it lasts. For once, I don’t feel guilty about spilling my guts to someone, because this person is paid to listen and give me helpful feedback.
That’s my thoughts about that.
