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So, here's what I got from the Ohio counselor.

First off, she thinks I need an appointment with a psychiatrist. When she said this, I'm sure my shoulders sagged by about three inches, and I asked, "so you think I need to be on medicine, then?" She surprised me with her response: "I don't know."

Hm. Would you look at that? I always assumed an appointment with a psychiatrist was simply for the purpose of walking out with a prescription. Apparently, I'm just going for advice. Whether or not I go back on my meds is up to me. If this psych pushes, I push him back. I'm sure he's perfectly competent and nice, but I'm ready for him if he puts his own thing in front of what's best for me. I've dealt with my share of doctors who have their own agendas and I've been rather burned by it, so pardon my cynicism.

As far as the doctors are concerned, *that is all.*

Moving right along. I have another appointment with D, my C-ville counselor, tomorrow. The Ohio therapist thought I should go back and give her another chance. In fact, she said, she might have said the same things as D, knowing that I'd been in crisis at that last appointment. She said D was operating from an emergency mode, which was entirely understandable. She wanted me to go back and talk with her again, try to set some things straight. She also said that if I come away again feeling defeated, confused about what to do next, then I shouldn't go back. I should find someone else in that case.

This, I can handle.

Right now, I'm just so glad to be home again, in my normal routine again, waking up next to my wonderful husband in the mornings and talking with him on the couch with a little stove-popped popcorn in the evenings.

Love him. Love home.