Ever since the pandemic, when my psychiatrist shut down in-person meetings and went to tele-health, I have spoken to him every week. I had not been doing visiting him at his office that frequently for some time. When I first started out seeing him, about six (?) years ago, it was weekly. But, well, things got better. Before the shutdown, I was seeing him about once a month. And it felt enough.
I don't exactly remember how I got back on a weekly schedule with him. I was freaking out over the virus, so I think I had a lot to say that first time over the phone. But even though the air of danger has not subsided (if you've looked at the number of new cases, hospitalizations, admissions into ICUs and deaths, they have in fact only increased), I have run out of things to say. It is tough to talk about the same thing over and over, which the virus is. It is dangerous, but it has been as dangerous as it has ever been, so it's difficult to approach it to your therapist from a different angle, you know? And frankly, I have grown tired of being afraid of the virus. I wouldn't call it confidence so much as fear fatigue.
So yes, I literally have nothing to say. Well, I have managed to reach almost an hour the last few sessions. I've been able to pull some coronavirus-/lockdown-related things to talk about. For my session this afternoon (that's why I'm blog posting about this now), for example, I think I'll tell him about my trip to fuck ****e last week, and planning on getting a haircut outside. But I have concentrated on non-virus things, such as my parents driving me nuts and work driving me nuts. But other than that, well, what is there to say?
So I don't know how I got to be on a weekly schedule, and frankly, it's starting to get exhausting to keep up. I think after my first session over the phone, he told me to call him back next week, and due to a combination of inertia and expectation, I haven't stopped. Maybe I should. Or maybe I'll just come to a point in a future phone call where I'll just fall quiet, at which point it'll be impossible to avoid the fact that a week isn't enough for me to build up an hour's worth of stuff to say.
I don't exactly remember how I got back on a weekly schedule with him. I was freaking out over the virus, so I think I had a lot to say that first time over the phone. But even though the air of danger has not subsided (if you've looked at the number of new cases, hospitalizations, admissions into ICUs and deaths, they have in fact only increased), I have run out of things to say. It is tough to talk about the same thing over and over, which the virus is. It is dangerous, but it has been as dangerous as it has ever been, so it's difficult to approach it to your therapist from a different angle, you know? And frankly, I have grown tired of being afraid of the virus. I wouldn't call it confidence so much as fear fatigue.
So yes, I literally have nothing to say. Well, I have managed to reach almost an hour the last few sessions. I've been able to pull some coronavirus-/lockdown-related things to talk about. For my session this afternoon (that's why I'm blog posting about this now), for example, I think I'll tell him about my trip to fuck ****e last week, and planning on getting a haircut outside. But I have concentrated on non-virus things, such as my parents driving me nuts and work driving me nuts. But other than that, well, what is there to say?
So I don't know how I got to be on a weekly schedule, and frankly, it's starting to get exhausting to keep up. I think after my first session over the phone, he told me to call him back next week, and due to a combination of inertia and expectation, I haven't stopped. Maybe I should. Or maybe I'll just come to a point in a future phone call where I'll just fall quiet, at which point it'll be impossible to avoid the fact that a week isn't enough for me to build up an hour's worth of stuff to say.
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