Doctor's Visit

I just met with my psychiatrist, Dr. E (who I've been calling my "doctor" in my earlier posts). She wanted to see me today to check in about how the recovery was going and see if we needed to make any adjustments. She's this shorter, perky lady who is very, very smart; so, it's very nice to see her. Also there are only particular types of women that I know who legitimately look good in pantsuits, and she is one of them.

In list-form, here's the situation:

Medication: My mood has been getting better, little by little, over the past two weeks. Dr. E says this is a good sign since that means I'm responding to the newer medication, an SSRI called Sertraline. Because I'm responding to it, I won't need to be put on an additional, heavier, medication in order to amplify the effects of the Sertraline. However, we are going to increase my dosage of my SSRI, starting today. I'm going to stay on the supplementary, short-term medication (Ativan) for the moment. Over the course of the next three weeks I'll wean myself off of that one.

Mood Stuff: I should continue to feel better, and the crying jags should start to taper off. I've been getting stuck in them only every other day or so. Dr. E says that I might have a some rough days, but that that's ok. Overall, the strings of "good" days should continue to get longer and longer.

Rituals: The increased dosage of the meds should eventually, in conjunction with my work with my counselor, help the rituals reduce in number and duration. I've had several little victories this week: I went back to work, I cooked dinner for myself, and pushed my rituals back to 5:25.

For the future: I'm going to see how I adjust to the new medication and check back in with Dr. E in four weeks.

Right now Mom's still staying with me, and she might be here for the next two weeks. I'm really grateful that she's been able to stay, even though I feel bad for keeping her here so long.

Mostly, right now I'm feeling really bummed because of something I talked about with Dr. E. Up until now, I'd been living with the assumption that my OCD was mild. Because of recent events, though, I've had to talk with Dr. E about the extent of my anxiety and she seems to think that the condition wasn't mild at all. According to her, I was, sort of just managing, and working my life around my OCD. Today in her office, I was asking (as I often do now),

"How did this happen? My OCD used to be so mild."

And she responded, "Was it really mild?"

Even a few hours a day spent performing rituals adds up. That's a lot of time. I guess I've been enjoying feeling like mine was a marginal, super-mild case of OCD. I felt like I didn't really have to think about it that much. I'm trying to come to terms with the fact that I actually have, for realz, OCD. I'm trying to stay positive about this - because my doctors know the full extent of my condition, and I'm not trying to pretend like everything is fine, they can treat the disorder better. But it's hard to admit the way I've actually been living - it means owning up to the depth of the problem.