“Trouble Man”; Waylon Jennings
“…then he took out his pocket knife and cut off my horns.”
…let me know if the YouTube isn’t available.
Yes, that is my File. I took the picture back in December, my doctor seemed a little surprised when I asked if I could take the shot… but after a second not so much. He does read this blog, which makes our Friday sessions a little weird because we end up talking about It and even about some of the people who read Salted.
I can’t remember when I told him… I think it was pretty soon after I started it, which would make sense. I was pretty much at my lowest point since starting my Recovery when I started Salted, and starting it was a pretty significant and positive step for me…
So we joke occasionally about how I really don’t need to show up, he can just use Salted to see where I am in my Recovery… also about how at some point he’ll need to start printing out my posts to put in my File.
I started seeing my doctor in 1988. It was… well, not too long after I had a disagreement with another doctor. When I was 15 or 16 a doctor had prescribed me medications without notifying my mother… so when I got in the car and said “here’s the prescription” she did what she usually did and tore his heart from his chest and, while it was still beating, she ate it. After that it was pretty much downhill… what with him being dead and all.
I had seen that doctor for a few months at least. I was usually pissed off at him for bringing shit up or asking questions I didn’t like… we had one session where I just sat and glared at him for 45 minutes. And even then I had a pretty fucking frightening glare. I wasn’t an easy Patient.
Before that there were a few counsellors and school therapists going back to when I was ten or twelve… there was one guy who promised me toy cars based on a point system for telling The Truth. Fucker still owes me two toy cars. Then there was one who asked if she could take Every Thing I Had Ever Written home overnight so she could photocopy them for her files… she brought back four photocopied pages and told me she had lost the rest.
…sigh. She was also the one who fucked up administering an IQ test… for a week I thought mine was 80.
Between 1988 and 2004(?) I saw a few different doctors before coming back to the one I have now… actually I do have a copy of a fairly decent assessment from one of those doctors I’ll post soon.
So… my questions for anyone willing to answer (your mother told me to say it’s good for you):
1. For whatever reason, when was the first time you found, needed or were given “help” from a counsellor, therapist or mental health worker?
2. If you’re still ‘in the system’ does your current counsellor, therapist or mental health worker know about your blog?