So, Thursday I went to PsyCare to see my new therapist, a multi-doctorate psychologist with a sonarist, calming voice.  My experience in the waiting room was probably the saddest point of the day.  So much pain in such a small area.  I arrived shortly after 8:30am and checked in, passing off my insurance card and receiving a clipboard full of forms with highlighted areas for me to sign.  I took a seat across from an incredibly tired woman with two adorable young children, each beaming with youth and exuberance, a foil to her defeated fatigue and subdued parenting.  While navigating the forms (the one on top was blank; WTF?) a young man came in with his son and started fighting with one of the receptionists about his copay.  My Dr came out and introduced himself and let me know he was looking forward to seeing me and that they’d buzz me in when I was finished with the forms.  I had finished some time before but was waiting out the fight at the window.  I finally approached and had my forms scrutinized, even to the point that I had to resubmit one.  I’d signed that I had no qualms with my therapist sharing information with my primary physician, despite not having a primary physician.  Apparently, that meant I wanted to refuse such communication.  Which I don’t.  But whatever.

The receptionist went on to tell me that she hadn’t been able to contact my insurance provider and hence didn’t know what my copay would be, and asked me what I thought it might be.  I shrugged and said “fifty?”, to which she shrugged and said “sure, give me that.”  I presented my coupon (WTF!!) and paid forty, then we looked at each other for awhile.  Finally I said, “Aren’t you going to buzz the doctor?”  She lazily did so and he reappeared and led me to his office.

The first thing he mentioned was that I was a Leo, then went on to tell me what a “firecracker” my signature indicated me to be.  He surveyed me and made a comment that I appeared quite put together and subdued.  I shrugged.  We went into his office and I began to piece together a portrait of him through the various displays on the walls and bookshelf.  There was his Theology commendation, a framed reproduction of an illuminated text piece of Bach’s “Ave Maria”, a framed flyer from the Dalai Lama’s recent visit to San Diego in 2009.  He asked me about my high school, then asked why I’d not pursued more scholastic endeavors after high school, commenting that I seemed very intelligent and educated.  I told him life got in the way, but I’m an avid reader.  He asked me a bit about my family and my wife, then turned his chair to face me and told me all about him.

He is 64, married only once, has a 25 yr old daughter.  He is a theologian, with extensive study in seminary, hebrew, islamic, and buddhist sects.  He is a theater aficionado, a music lover, and a current practicer of the martial arts.  It was like staring into the future.  As I told him more about me, he seemed more pleased that we’d been placed together.  I think he’s just as happy with me as I am with him.  I had barely begun to hint at what brought me to seek therapy, merely suggesting that I had recurrent depression, before our session was over.  He told me his initial diagnosis is that I am biporal with major recurrent depression.  I shrugged and said, “Yeah, that sounds about right.”

He walked me out to speak with the receptionist about my insurance copay debacle, but he wasn’t able to get any more information than I was.  I scheduled four more appointments with him, one for each week in the next month.  I told the receptionist that I thought it’d be best to meet once a week at the onset of our time together and then see about tapering off to every two weeks, to which she just shrugged.  A lot of shrugging all around was to be seen that day.

So, yeah, I like my therapist and I’m looking forward to working through my concerns with him.  At this point, I think he likes me, but I haven’t really gotten the opportunity to scare him with the darker aspects of my psychosis.  Which is a shame; he seems like a really nice guy.  I worry that I might hold back out of admiration, which isn’t fair to either of us.

I suppose we’ll see.  Like me, he’s not terribly anxious to put me on medication and would rather explore therapeutic options first, which I was very happy to hear.