Getting professional help

Having made an appointment with a therapist, I felt as though, for the first time in my life, I was making progress. For the first time in my life, I had done something real. Unlike my previous attempts at curing my social anxiety, I was getting outside help – professional help. Unfortunately, I was so scared of what was to come, I wasn’t sure if I had the determination to see this through. I had one week to agonize over things.

You see, my main problem was that I had a tendency to think ahead too much. I automatically had doubts about what lie ahead. I couldn’t help but think that it was going to turn out wrong. Basically, I was psyching myself out before I even had a chance to try. I no longer have this problem, but back then, it seemed that a pre-programmed belief system wielded all the power. If I believed that it would turn out horribly wrong, then nothing would change that. This created a lot of unnecessary anxiety for me.

I cancelled the first appointment when it became clear that I wasn’t going to be able to leave the house. My mother offered to come with me, but how pathetic would that have been? I beat myself up after that decision was made, and I vowed that I would keep the next appointment in one week’s time.

I got a ride to the doctor with my brother that day. I was dreading the moment, and up until the last minute, I held onto the notion that I could always cancel again.

I did, however, manage to keep my appointment. This was one of the last options I had, and since I had cancelled previously, I felt that I didn’t have many chances left.

The appointment was with a psychiatrist. This was paid for by the government healthcare plan. He advised me that there would be a few preliminary questions before we got down to business – I was shacking like a leaf.

There were about 30-40 questions, most of which, had nothing to do with social anxiety. He asked me if I had ever been in jail, had I ever been sexually abused, what was my family life like – that sort of thing. I patiently answered all his questions simply to get them out of the way so that we could begin the session. Once the session began, I was a little disappointed.

It didn’t go in the direction that I had hoped. I kept trying to steer him towards the social anxiety angle, and he kept talking about drug abuse, depression, and my history. In fact, I almost convinced myself that I had other issues, and that social anxiety was simply a side-effect of something deeper. I was (am) easily mislead, and I find that I can be talked into believing things very easily.

I kept insisting that we talk about my social anxiety problem and once we did, it was obvious that he had little experience with that particular ailment. Everything we talked about, I already knew. It seemed that he could not relate to what I was saying – We were on different pages.

He eventually suggested that my particular problem would be best treated by cognitive behavioral therapy techniques and medication. He admitted that this was not his specialty, and referred me to a psychologist that did specialize in such treatment.

I still believe that professional help is crucial when it comes to evaluating and treating any form of mental illness. However, the lesson I learned that day, was that you still have the final say as to who you see. If you feel that the therapist is not right for you, then you owe it to yourself (and that person) to move on to someone else. Everyone cannot be an expert in all areas, and the same goes with mental health professionals. They all have their specialties.

The good news was that I was getting closer to someone who would understand my condition perfectly – Someone who I could relate to on all levels.

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