So, I saw my T last night after not sleeping for... 31 hours, because I'd pulled a double the night before and decided to stay up and Get Shit Done. After quite nearly an hour of catching her up on the State of Affairs she missed from all of July ( :eek: ), I squeezed in all the suicidal stuff at the end as an anecdote. She felt less than anecdotal about it and mandated I see a psychiatrist before seeing her next. It wasn't clear what the consequences of not doing that would be, but psych wards were mentioned. She was unimpressed by my assertion that I was not suicidal because my dogs wouldn't have a place to live. We talked briefly about coping mechanisms. She was *very* unimpressed.
Le sigh.