I fired my psychiatrist today. First I purchased some books, rear-ended a guy in a Lexus, bought gorgeous eyeshadow for charity, and almost had a panic attack, but I would say the day’s main event was the aforementioned dismissal. No. That was eclipsed a few minutes ago when my sister, who had brain surgery yesterday afternoon, called me. And talked to me. Coherently. Only for like two minutes, and my brother-in-law had texted me yesterday that everything went well, etc., but there is no substitute for actually hearing her conscious, drugged up voice emanating from my phone. . .
My PCP told me something yesterday that got me thinking. Very stupid thing to do, and it will backfire on him in all sorts of ways, but it did good things for me today. He told me that I was a good actress, and that regardless of what I was feeling, I needed to act like I was all calm and collected when I spoke with my psychiatrist.
I got pissed off because if there is one thing you don’t do to me (and there are so many more than just one), it’s tell me to shut up and not be myself. After I blogged this morning I was doing well, I put on a pretty dress and went out to face the world. I felt calm, like I could handle things, like I wasn’t going to flip or freak out and everything would be okay.
Then the whole rear-ending incident occurred and I kind of started to feel like crap. I wasn’t sure I was going to make it through the appointment, I felt like an idiot, in short I wasn’t at all myself.
Somewhere in the back of my mind the actress comment had been simmering, though. I decided it actually was a very helpful suggestion, although of course not in the spirit in which it was made. I sat in the waiting room and began to channel. During my appointment, I acted – and even looked, thanks to the outfit I had chosen – every bit the part of Grace Kelly. Inside, though, I was 110% Kate.
This didn’t conflict with my pathological need to be myself, because I think that in many ways, I am Katharine Hepburn. I don’t know really how this could be possible. I do believe in reincarnation, but to the best of my knowledge, the person (or animal etc.) whom you were in a previous life has to have died before you were born. I’m not 100% on that one, but I do know that Kate was very much alive when I made my debut. Regardless, as much as I have this irritating propensity to question everything, there are some things that I know it’s better to just accept and not try to define or put any form of constraint on. I’m going to say that reincarnation falls into that category.
When I left my psychiatrist’s office, I felt like I could fly. I thought to myself, Let’s ring bells, let’s let off fireworks, let’s turn on every light in the house, at least!
I settled for buying a super-cute mid-weight trench and some new tee shirts (no one ever warns you how expensive losing weight can be!).
And then, to put the perfect finish on a (mostly) perfect day, my E called. I don’t give a rip what genetics say, she is my sister and she called me because she knew I needed to hear her voice, and because she is the only person I know of that would celebrate my triumph today as enthusiastically as I. I didn’t tell her about it, but she had obviously felt me longing to talk to her across the miles, and she picked up that phone and called me.
I can die happy. :D
Moral of the story: ”Never tell a girl to calm down! Guys always tell girls to calm down and it never works, it just gets us all whipped up! You see me all whipped up now, it’s cause you told me to calm down!” ~ Miranda Cosgrove, iCarly
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