Going back into therapy

Today I made a call I've been putting off for oh... A long time. I called the intake department of my local Behavioral Health group that takes my insurance. The same group that sees my Wildflower Child. The same group that inspired me to have to get sole legal custody of said child. The same group that has made me crazy with red tape and screwed up schedules and also shown me that there is hope for my daughter to be the capable and awesome person I know she can be. I made an appointment for an intake appointment with the same wonderful and warm woman that did my daughter's evaluation almost a year ago. I finally admitted to someone that can actually do something, that I need help. 

I've been in therapy in the past. Many times. But the last time was well before the Wildflower Child came into my life. Well over a decade ago. Some therapists have helped. Others have just pissed me off. Some have made me wonder how they got their credentials. The problem is, I'm rather intelligent, and self aware, and have studied a fair amount of psychology myself. And I have enough hubris so that if someone isn't "getting it" I immediately discount everything they say and scoff at the entire process. 

Well, I'm done with that bullshit. 

I need help. 

I am not ashamed to admit that I am at the end of my rope. I am not in danger. I am not in crisis. I am in flux and I am fighting situational depression and I have some major decisions that have to be addressed and eventually made, sooner rather than later. I need an outside support system to help me find the right directions for myself and my daughter. 

More people need to understand that asking for help, getting mental health care, is not a sign of weakness. Even I need to own this. This is a strong, proactive, decision to hopefully guide me the best possible outcome for all involved. There are a lot of variables in my life right now; a new relationship, a Domestic Relations conference coming up, my parents moving from the Mid-Atlantic to most likely Florida (FUCKING FLORIDA) as soon as they can, my professional future, where will I be in a year or two, how will I continue to provide for my daughter, and my dog... 

The stress I am under results in a few rather negative responses. Either I devolve into a blinding rage that is scatter shot at the people around me. Luckily that doesn't last long. Or perhaps I will become self-loathing. I have a history of self-injurious behavior, and while I haven't cut or burned myself in years, I'd like to make sure that I don't feel that impulse again. Then there's the paralyzing fear. Because that's awesome. And a great way to make appropriate decisions. </sarcasm>

I want anyone who reads this to know you can ask for help. There are resources available. You are not alone. Needing mental health care and support isn't a failure. Getting it, makes you stronger. 

Wish me luck with my providers. I'm hoping I click with the first one.