In Atlanta VIII… Chapter 8

So here is the thing.  I am not new to the world of Psychology or the engagement of seeking help from a Psychologist.  In fact, I insist on having one.  I have been seeing a Psychologist since I can remember or at least regularly at the age of sixteen.  I have fallen off the wagon in some years in between then and now, but for the most part, I find comfort in talking to someone who can help me juggle all of the things that are running around in my head.  You can definitely tell when I am seeing a Psychologist and when I am not.  My thoughts and actions are so much more strategic and analytical, when I am.  However, when I got laid off in 2015 from my very corporate job, that I was such a faithful servant to for over 17 years, I fell off the wagon completely.  I strongly believe that this was the beginning to my overall breakdown.  The career as much as it served me good, did a world of bad and completed ruined me as an individual.   I am constantly blaming that seventeen year period as the time of my demise.  Now looking back, it was the best lesson ever.

Here I am again.   I just hope and pray that this doctor will not send me back to Florida or place me in any mental institution.  My nerves are a wreck and as much as I am a talker, I am so shook that I am literally panicking.  Chico is driving me to this appointment and I need him now more than ever.  I can not even find the words to describe what the hell just happened, how we got here, what is wrong with me.  I can’t do a damn thing.  I feel like shit and I don’t know what to do.

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My phone is ringing.  I pull it out to look at the screen.   It is my manager from Coke, David May trying to reach me.  He doesn’t have any clue as to what is going on with me nor does he have access to my status.  I literally left his ass high and dry and he deserved that shit.  Coke didn’t, but his ass did.  I turn my phone off completely.  I am now spiraling, but trying not to make the situation worse than what it already is.  There is no closet to run to while in a moving vehicle.  This is one thing that people who don’t suffer from mental illness notice. People like myself are masters of acting.  Our face will show you confidence, wisdom, and joy.  On the other hand, we are really just getting excited about how to jump off the closest bridge.  Chico has learned to pick up on when my face is lying and when it isn’t.  He notices me throwing my phone back into the bag and instead of asking me who was calling, he grabs my hand and tells me that everything is going to be ok.   We shall see.

Dr. Wise’s office is simple, but relaxing.  We are escorted to her office by the receptionist. There is a chair that has an ottoman and I sit in it.  As soon as I am comfortable, the door opens with a woman looking like at me like I am stone crazy.  She is right, but I haven’t said one thing about why we are here.  “Excuse me, I am Dr. Connie Wise, you must be Jacinta Daniel?”   I respond with a “Yes Ma’am”.  She looks at Chico then looks back at me. “Ok, so before we get started, there are some things we need to make clear.  That is my chair that you are sitting in.  I would love to sit down and have a therapy session with you.  Number two, who is this man?”  I am totally caught off guard by this blunt statement.  I guess I was expecting an empathetic doctor that was going to nurture me back to good health.  Dr. Wise is in her early 50’s.  She is about 5’7″.  I am admiring her Vaneli leopard shoes.  Her glasses even speak volumes about her style and taste.  You can tell that she is not only highly educated, but she remembers each chapter of Emily Post’s Book of Etiquette.  I feel like I am about to get a spanking or something, so I quickly move over to the Queen Anne chair with a scared look on my face as if I hope this is the right seat.  I guess I am not swift enough to tell her that the man sitting hear with me is my husband.  So she takes it upon herself to ask him who the hell he is.   So far 2 points Dr. Wise, 0 points Jacinta.

“Dr. Wise, I am Chico Daniel, Jacinta’s husband.  I am hear for support”  This is not a sufficient answer for her.  She is already taking a ton of notes with her Mont Blanc pen and looking at us dead in the face as she is writing.  This chick ain’t no joke. “Well Mr. Daniel, according to my notes, this is not couples therapy.   So is the therapy for you or Mrs. Daniel?  I only need to see one of you, not the both of you.”  Well damn!  Dr. Wise is blunt.  For some same reason this doesn’t bother me.  Any other time, my ass would have already been back in the car.  Today is different.  I am different.  “Dr. Wise, I brought my husband with me because I can’t even explain to you what the hell I just went too.”  At this point, she seems to understand the severity of my situation by looking at my face.  We are desperate.  I am desperate.  I need help.  I need for her to help me.  The feeling in my gut is telling me that she is the one.   She finally gives in and agrees to let Chico stay.  “Alright, so let me hear it.  What’s going on?”  Her realness gives me hope.

Chico starts from the top.  Dr. Wise is making every face known to man.  I am crying and shaking through the whole conversation and I haven’t said one word.  She is writing in my chart as fast as she can.  Finally, she puts a stop to the conversation…..  “Are you fucking kidding me?”  She is in total disbelief that something like this could happen to anybody.  Not that this situation is not unheard of, but it is just too unethical for her.  She looks over at me.  Her skin is so smooth and chocolate.  She moves her glasses down on her nose to get a better look at me.  “We have got a ton of work to do!!!  I am going to clear the deck for this one!  You need to be here every single week.  Do not miss an appointment.  You also need a Psychiatrist that specializes in multiple traumatic experiences.  She writes a list and passes it to me. “You need to call them Stat! Tell them Connie Wise sent you and they will see you as soon as they can.  In other words, the next time you are sitting across from me, I need to see what medications they have already prescribed and how we will work as a team to fix this.  This is a damn shame, but we will get through it! We have a lot of work to do, so get ready.”

I grab Chico’s hand and we leave…..

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