The Quest For Mental Health, Pt.1

So I've accepted that listening to Guns n Roses' "Welcome to the Jungle" just does not cheer me up like it used to. Which means I'm officially depressed; I can no longer deny this dark, dark sadness that has taken over my psyche. It's out of control and destructive and no amount of french fries and 80's metal can make it go away. And trust me when I say I've tried!!


Jack (and a certain DOOCE blog post) has convinced me that okay, it's not just a temporary thing, it's something that's building and building and getting uglier than Flavor Flav with every passing minute. And that I need the help of a professional.


Of course at first I was like NO NO HELL TO THE NAW. I hate doctors. All kinds of medical professionals. They killed my grandma (yes, they did and you can't convince me otherwise) and had her hooked on a pharmacy of pills all her life and I don't trust them. But lately I don't trust me, either. Not that I'd take any drastic moves- I'm too vain for that- but I could see me being all passive-aggressive about shit and letting things happen so that I can wallow in sadness the rest of my days. I don't want to be like that.


So...I made an appointment with a Social Worker (as apposed to a psychiatrist or psychologist who'd probably greet me at the door with a prescription pad in hand) for next week after work. Of course it remains to be seen if I will keep said appointment, and if Empire BC/BS will just let me see this doctor without being a total pain in my ass, but the appointment has been made nonetheless.


*smooches...crazier than a mofo, for real for real*
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should I send the doc a link to my blog? or is that a guarantee of a first class ticket to bellvue??