And today I went to the psychotherapists.

It didn't start out well, I admit. I got up later than I intended because I felt dreadful and did not want to move at all (it's got something to do with going to bed later than I intended - damn being up half the night RPing smut with cards_slash and caseyvalhalla) so I didn't get down to the welfare office until about 10:35. At which point I realized, shit, there was a huge long queue for the desk I needed and the woman there was covering for the person next to her who had just gone for tea break. Or maybe it was the other way round.

I wasn't even supposed to be there until five to two in the afternoon, either, so I couldn't even console myself with an appointment time. I'd just been told to go down early so I could make my therapist's appointment. Anyway, I went and found someone else checking in at the same desk and explained the situation, asked if I could jump ahead of him. He said fine, but complained about missing an outpatients appointment of his own. Okay, right... you didn't have to say yes.

Anyway, sat there for a bit and realized things Just. Weren't. Moving.

Instead of wait for the woman at the desk to get her finger out and clear a queue of about five people I ran off to a woman working the floor, adopted an (entirely unfeigned) look of deranged panic, showed her my outpatients appointment letter and begged for help. She kindly found someone who wasn't busy, who got me seen in about five minutes. I got out pretty damn sharpish in case I got lynched by some fellow jobseeker who'd been waiting half an hour to be seen and resented me jumping the queue.

(Oh well, at least I'll never have to see any of them again as my normal sign-in time is three hours later and the freakin' welfare office isn't exactly the kind of place anyone goes if they don't have to.)

At which point I promptly ran for the bus stop and got on a passing God-Knows-What-Number up to Westminster Bridge and St. Thomas' Hospital.

And I'm gonna say briefly that I really like that bus route.

... dammit, I keep getting distracted from this very simple post by RPing smut with cards_slash and caseyvalhalla. Must not be distracted. No.

Anyway, I got there. I must say it felt very odd to be back in a hospital again after all this time, and not a little bit saddening to be there as a patient, even an ambulant one. I try not to think about this too much but it still makes me sad. Not really upset, just - sad. (I'm just glad it wasn't the trust I used to work for - that would be really hard.)

The psychology department was down a long, long corridor, very bright and clean and white, and tucked away in the basement. You had to be quiet when you went in, because sessions were in progress. Understandable, really, given that people come there to pour out their angst and now I was, too. It was quite nice for all that, not obtrusively lit and the fact that it was underground made it all seem very private. Liked that. I guess if I'd had a room with a window I'd just have wanted to look out of it.

I spent what felt like most of the session blushing and saying 'um'. My assessor (smartly dressed, but she sat on her chair with her shoes off and her legs crossed - nicely incongruous, this) did the usual thing of letting me speak and then asking questions about the things I said. The usual issues came up. Not going to rehash them again as I guess they're all there in most of my Emo Posts of Doom for anyone who cares to look. I suppose I could always link them to my eljay and tell them to read that if they really want to know what goes on in my head.

Though I'd probably have to friendslock all the Weiss-related fannspazzes. If a psychologist saw those, they'd probably have me committed.)

I've now got to wait another six months for a regular appointment with an actual therapist. But at least I've been assessed now, so I guess we're getting somewhere?

And then I came home.