Marsha Drucker. Marcy O'Neal. Laura Sage. Carol Dewald. Margie Mortimer. Judith Feinman.

I'm trying to choose a therapist today. These are the names provided to me by my insurance company, and that's basically all I have to go by...just the names. I do know they're all female because that's what I requested, but that's all the information I started with.

Sooo...Marsha is out. Her name is too much like the fabled Marsha Hoppy, Christian Counselor, who didn't want me to be a 'deek'. Is this fair to Marsha Drucker? Not at all. But them's the breaks.

Marcy O'Neal is promising because my therapist in Savannah was Peggy O'Cain. See...another 'O' name, and this time a positive association. So I called Ms. O'Neal's office and asked the receptionist if Ms. O'Neal was going to be comfortable treating a big ol' deek, and the stammering that ensued directly resulted in my hanging up as soon as she put me on hold.

Ok. On down the list to Laura Sage. Now, that's a wise sounding name. Sure to be full of 'sage' advice. I got her answering machine though and something in her voice rubbed me the wrong way. I don't even know what. So scratch the Sage.

Carol Dewald works at a geriatric facility. They don't see anyone under fifty. I'm barely out of my twenties. ahem.

Margie Mortimer? Are they kidding? That's a cartoon name.

This leaves us with Judith Feinman. She works for 'University Mental Health blah blah'. That's good. University Hospital is where I had my baby. I trust them. And Judith is a nice sturdy name. She'll probably have met and worked with plenty of deeks. I'm waiting for her office to call me back and give me an appointment.

Why therapy? Good question. Here's why: Because I am very regularly being overwhelmed by my emotions. Every rainshower becomes a tornado. Disappointments feel like major heartbreak. Irritation feels like grinding rage. Unfortunately, happiness doesn't necessarily translate to orgasmic euphoria...but wouldn't that be nice? Distracting, but nice.

So something has to be done. This is not good for me, not good for my relationship with Jayden, not good for my relationship with Nate (can you imagine what mother guilt turns into under these circumstances?), and not good for my performance at work.

I am not suicidal. I don't think I have that kind of personality, or whatever...but sometimes I feel like I just want to die. And I don't say that out loud because it sounds like drama queen talk. So...for anyone who thinks I'm a drama queen anyway...evidence that it isn't as bad as it could be.

So what I'm thinking is that life is too short to spend so much of it unhappy -- especially when it's me making me that way. For whatever reason. And maybe it's a chemical thing. I think for the first time that I might be ready to try an anti-depressant. Generally, I think we as a society are over-medicated, and I hate to take medicines...but...you know...something's gotta be done. Maybe it's time to bite the bullet. It's just scary because I've known a couple of people who have had a really hard time getting off of them. And if the meds take away the stunning lows, will I lose the dazzling highs as well? And if chemicals are regulating my emotions...will I still be me? Will I really be happier, or just sort of levelled out?

I want to still be me. Just happier. Easier to live with. More 'with it'.

My intention at this point is to start writing here more regularly. And I'll let you know how the therapy works out.