When I got the news about my grandad, I was still strong about it. Don't get me wrong, I loved him very much, but I was being an adult about it. People have to go sometime, so I cried, and got on with my life. I guess I was wrong about being "adult" and strong about it. 3 days after the news, I got home from work and found that my fish had committed suicide, I broke down and cried and if I remember correctly, I didn't stop crying for days...My then bf was getting worried, he and a few of my friends tried to cheer me up. My boss even gave me a week off to get myself settled. That week, I decided to see a psychologist. I was already throwing whatever food I eat back out- near enough bulemic. (or a hyperchondriac)
The first meeting was a drop by at the office (in the University I was still in). She asked me a few question about work, about my finals the next year etc, thought I could be stress. But her initial comments then was that I was fine. I seemed fine to her,just a little sad about my grandad and my fish.
So, she gave me a questionare to fill up, and was hoping that she wont have to schedule a weekly/daily time for me. Not that she was busy, infact she was, but she mentioned that if in th records shows that I'd have to see her on a weekly/daily basis, that means I would be in "that" (crazy- though she didnt use the exact word,but thats what came to my mind when she tried to explain it) category.
A few das after the filling in the questionare, I receive a call from the nurse asking me to come in for a doctor's appoinment. And when I saw the psychologist, she old me that I needed to see her on weekly basis, and that I needed to be on medications to calm me down. The whole process would last 6 months. The meds and the "therapy".
That was how I was frequently visiting Boots to get my monthly pack of Fluoxetine.
