Member-only story
If admitting you need a therapist is the first battle, then the second is finding a therapist. I’ve previously written about the secondary infertility and miscarriage that were the origin story of my depression and anxiety. I’ve also discussed the borderline PCOS diagnosis that caused us to end our secondary infertility war. Recently, I also wrote about the day I had to admit that the coping and processing tools I had in place were not doing the job they needed to anymore, and how I came to the place where I had to admit it was time to bring in professional help.
At the end of December, just before Christmas, I met my new PCP for the first time. She was the one who gave me a referral for a therapist. Now the therapist was supposed to contact me, but the PA to my doctor usually sends a physical copy via mail just in case the patient needs to reach out and contact that therapist. It takes about a week to get that referral. With the holiday insanity, I wasn’t surprised that I got the physical referral before I got a phone call. I took a deep breath, reached out, and made the call. The response was not what I expected. The therapist did not take my insurance. When I emailed by PCP, she was confused as I was supposed to be referred to a different therapist.
