It’s a dance on the edge of a cliff I cannot trust will stay beneath my feet and yet I do nothing to move back.

Yesterday I had a deeply dissatisfying first session with a therapist who realized, due to a conflict of interest (we know people in common), that we wouldn’t be a suitable match. I had, even without the added knowledge, figured out it wasn’t going to work for me. Because therapy is like dating – it is generally evident in the first 5-10 minutes if there will be a point in moving forward. For me, if the therapist is either too stiff or regimented, or conversely too saccharin, things are going to come to a halt pretty quickly. Better to just move on and waste no more time on niceties.

And this point is important for a few reasons: These things happen. We are humans and there are only so many ways we can communicate which are satisfying and honest. When we are depressed, or like me currently, in an upswing – feeling better, cautiously optimistic about recent changes to employment and in the best season of the year- it is important to keep the momentum going. Because stumbling is a real possibility and stumbling leads to falling. So that’s the edge I am talking about. It is always there, sometimes easier to ignore, but there, and I remain at varying distances, nearby.

The fear of moving too close, coupled with the inevitable approach of winter (sorry to say, but we all know), can be easier to manage when one feels secure. Security comes in many forms – work, love, family, friends, routines, medication, meditation, exercise, practice – also in our society – reliable access to mental health services.

I am fortunate to have some of these things. I am fortunate to be working toward strengthening some of these things. I have been in a position of greater access to mental health services before (read as: private insurance) and I know how good access can look and feel.

I am not currently in that place. Being reliant on Medicaid is limiting in two ways.

First, had I not ended up in crisis, I would not be in the position I am now, hoping to find a therapist within the practice where I was referred with no other current option.

Second, had I not spent two months trying to access mental health services when my depression symptoms were more debilitating and I had just found out I had Medicaid; had I not been told by every provider’s office I contacted that they were not taking new clients, to call back next month, I would not have ended up in crisis. I know this. I know this to the core of my being.

This thin line I walk is not new to me – I have been here before – I can be trusted to know when I need help. There are many of us here, dancing along this tenuous edge, frustrated by the obstacles which seem to force us closer to being unable to control our descent. Many will not survive. Please let that sink in. We are not alone and we are all struggling. We can make this better for those who are so close to falling. But not with this current system. This is me today: