I can't start this without giving you thanks for all of your support and love. I feel every bit of it and thank you for it. Some of your letters (email) to me make me cry with gratitude for the friends I've built here. I KNOW that one day I'll be back to regular posting and reading and commenting, and I'm looking forward to that day. Y'all have been so wonderful to me. Thank you from the bottom of my heart. Even though I'm not answering, you can be assured that I'm thinking of you and sending back the love you're sending me.

I decided that it was time that I do what I SAID I would do- seek psychological intervention, so I called my insurance company nurse advocate on Tuesday and filled her in with the feelings I've been having. Since my neurologist has me on off label use of meds that are used for various mental conditions, my nurse advocate said that instead of a psychologist, I should see a psychiatrist- so they can follow up with the meds and adjust me as needed. Especially considering the fact that my neurologist feels that she's done all that she can.

The nurse advocate gave me a short list of 'approved' psychiatrists in my area, and I called the first one on the list because I liked his last name (way to pick a psychiatrist, eh?). The psychiatrist's assistant said that she was going to ask me a few questions, then present it to the doctor to see if he would like to take on my case.

Hmmmm..... I didn't know it worked that way.

The questions were things like:
Do you have a restraining order against you?
Have you ever been in jail or prison?
Are you seeking psychiatric help due to a court order?
Has anyone ever reported you to child protective services?
Do you abuse alcohol or drugs?
Have you ever been a patient in a mental hospital?
Etc. Etc. Etc.

In case you're wondering, my answer was no to all of those questions. I felt fairly certain that the psychiatrist would see by my answers that I wasn't going to be too much trouble and would get a call that he accepted me as a patient.

au contraire!

I got a call yesterday that the psychiatrist did not want me as a patient.

Wow... and WOW. Maybe I should have asked why, but I thought that might make me seem desperate- kind of like when a guy breaks up with you. Just accept it and move on.... ya know?

Believe it or not, I think it's funny. I mean, who gets turned down by a psychiatrist? And yes, there are more on the list to call.

I'll follow up on Monday because this needs to be addressed and FIXED.

Michael called me yesterday and we had an interesting conversation yesterday about what is at the bottom of this dark hole of depression. Anybody want to guess?

If you answered "Lori, it's your job!", you're right!

It wasn't what you think, though. My dad, the bearded eye-roller, Heidi, my mother-in-law, all y'all (hey, I found out that that's plural for y'all!), have told me that I put in too many hours and work too hard. Yep, ALL y'all are right! But that's still not the root of the issue I'm having now.

This may be hard to understand, but here goes.... If I didn't have a job- I wouldn't be so affected by what has happened to me. I'm OK with myself at home, social situations (for a certain period of time, anyway), shopping, normal stuff. However, without a job, I'd wither on the vine. It can't be just any job either. I need to have a job that requires skills and knowledge that most people cannot do. Kind of like why I chose Hospice as my volunteer activity of choice. Most people wouldn't be able to do it, but I can.

As an aside, you may have noticed that I haven't posted about Hospice in a while- I had to give it up months ago because I couldn't keep up with work AND Hospice. I plan to go back after I retire.

Michael is a lot like me in this way. Our sense of self esteem is wrapped up in our job. It always has been for me. Years ago, I had two distinct personalities (not MPD!), one for work and one at home. Nobody could make me feel bad EVER at work. I was on top of everything and thought I was the best thing since sliced bread. Away from work was another story. I had severe self esteem issues. It took years of work to get those two 'personalities' to merge into who I am today.

Michael shared stories with me about how his prior employer wanted to put him out to pasture three times due to health-related issues.

As an aside- one of the issues was that he fainted... ha! What a wimp! (kidding, bro!).

He refused to go to pasture.. instead he asked for another assignment until he was able to do his job properly- but he wanted his job back when he was considered OK to fly. Considering that he used to fly these things, I can see why they'd want him in tip-top shape:


Anyhoo- talking to my brother really brought a lot of things to light for me. Together, we came up with a good game plan which does NOT include me quitting my job or even working less. He understands that this would be the worst thing I could do for my psyche.

Instead, I'm going to go to our HR department to get help with how to communicate how this brain injury has affected me to my department. If it were only my manager giving me things to do, that would be one thing. I could just tell my manager; but the WHOLE department throws things over the fence to me without going through my manager (which is the way my job was set up). Somehow- some way, everyone needs to know why on one day I'm fine, but on another day I act as if half of my brain was removed. They also need to know why I say things that don't make any sense WHATSOEVER some times. I'm more concerned about how top dog perceives me, than anything.

If you're logged in, you'll find out why.....