Why is my blog called "Fix me in 45?"

Since I created my blog, I have had several people reach out to me to thank me for my “honesty.” But in hindsight, I haven’t been entirely honest. I have been a manufactured type of honest – not just with my readers, but with myself. I plan to change that moving forward.

I had no intention to blog today, but I had a dream last night that I should. Then, I woke up and checked my Facebook memories, and it had been exactly two years since my first panic attack. Additionally, I have a therapy appointment today that is causing me a decent level of anxiety (I will get into that later).  

I have no problem talking about my near-constant anxiety (and my occasional depression/panic) in a generalized way. I have avoided writing freely about trauma, because that would require me to publicly write about others, and for reasons I still cannot figure out myself, I am protecting the people who have traumatized me. Not only that, but I am terrified that some individuals may accuse me of lying, and it will just open up a can of worms I am not emotionally equipped to handle. Maybe one day.

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So, let’s circle back to anxiety. There are so many funny reels that exist about how people with anxiety constantly assume everyone is mad at them. If you want to send someone with anxiety into a fucking spiral, just respond to their text messages with “K.” Another funny example is, “I am going to pretend to read the menu at the restaurant as if I didn't Google the menu a week before the reservation, pick out my dish, and use the keyword function on Yelp to search for an image of selected dish.” (I actually don’t know if other people do this, but I do).

But what about the darker aspects of anxiety? Like intrusive thoughts?

On Monday, I was in a meeting, and I randomly thought to myself, “Oh my god, what if Joyce [my therapist] dies, and I have no way of knowing? Does she have a system in place to notify her clients? I MUST remember to ask her about this at my next appointment. Is that too morbid? Maybe I can ask Andy [therapist brother], he’ll know.”

Later that night, I had a dream that I was in the middle of a session with Joyce when she just VANISHED from the room, and a screen appeared. My in-person session abruptly turned into a telehealth appointment. As I began talking, the screen went out, and Joyce disappeared. I remember looking at the clock and thinking, “We are only 34 minutes in. Will I get reimbursed for the 11 minutes I am missing? Lauren, what the hell is wrong with you? Your therapist has VANISHED, and you are worried about 11 minutes of financial compensation?”

At times, I can’t escape my intrusive thoughts. They follow me to sleep. But I am making progress.   

Anyway, I am typing this an hour before I head to therapy. Even before this dream, I had a list a mile long of things I wish to talk to Joyce about, and I have been in a bit of panic about selecting an item or two that we can fit into 45 minutes. And then, bam! I have this dream that I believe stemmed from my sick abandonment needs, and my list just got even longer. I should have booked a double appointment.

And that, my friends, is why my blog is called “Fix me in 45.” Because I can't afford double sessions, so we gotta work quick ;)