It’s That Time Again

I dreamt I was having a panic attack.  I woke up having a panic attack.  I don’t know if my real life panic attack invaded my dream of if my dream panic attack triggered my real life panic attack.  What I do know is that it’s time to resume therapy.

I’ve known for awhile that I needed to return to therapy, but since moving to the wrong coast I’ve yet to find a good fit.  I’ve found one therapist who earned a second visit and even a third, but not a fourth. Or maybe it was a fourth but not a fifth. I don’t know I lost count.

A few weeks ago I tried to get an appointment with somebody, anybody, in the big health center’s behavior health clinic. Basically, they decided I’m not crazy enough for them and referred me out.  Since then I’ve been researching the names they gave me. None seem to be “the one” at first glance.

But today is the day I make contact. I’ve decided to email every single practice they gave me. I’ll email them my symptoms, my story, my previous diagnoses, and my questions. Most importantly, my questions.

Questions like, If after reading my history you feel one of your clinicians would be a good fit what makes them qualified to work through adoption issues? Please include actual professional experience and training not simply being an adoptive parent. Has this clinician ever successfully worked with any first parents? Is this person supportive of open adoption? Does this person have experience working with grief and loss? Ambiguous loss? Infertility?

Might these questions put some people off? Probably. Do I have the time or energy to worry about their feelings? Not at all.

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