the life and musings of a kinky slut

Reverse & Repeat

I’m not depressed per say, just sad. I got a letter in the mail this weekend from my health insurer stating my sessions with my therapists will not be covered past the 17th of next month. That means I have one session left.

If anything, I am fearful. I initially started going to her because I was going through a difficult time in my life. Lots of things were changing or coming to a head, and I wasn’t sure if the wealth of emotion affecting my everyday was 1- normal and 2- healthy. Also, were the actions I was taking because of how I was feeling helpful or harmful to my relationships and my life.

It’s been eight months. The time I’ve spent just sitting and talking to my Doc has been invaluable. Knowing it’s going to end is unsettling. But aside from an endless phone struggle, I don’t see my insurer okaying another round of therapy. In seven months they are kicking me off their rolls. Best to save money now while they can.

The Doc and I have talked about me paying straight out-of-pocket, in a conversation concerning the possibility of me not having insurance come next summer. I guess our time window just got pushed up.

Pile on recent conversations I’ve yet to touch on here and it seems like one helpful thing in my life is being taken away at a time when I still need it. I never knew one day a month could mean so much.

Why does it seem like the insurance industry lately keeps screwing me over.

Categorised as: Emotional | Healthcare | Vent

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