Check In: I’m in a bit of a state of panic. My telephone service provider just went out of business and for the moment I need to figure out from where I’m getting service next (T-Mobile and AT&T have been just awful to me and to the public in general). I should be able to write right now, but anxiety and panic and stuff.
I watched Shutter Island (2010, Leonardo DiCaprio) last night. After my viewing of Stonehearst Asylum (2014 Kate Beckinsale) not long ago I’m developing fantasies of having Sir Ben Kingsley as my psychiatrist or ward administrator.
I should clarify this, lest I sound like the Star Trek geeks seeking Captain Picard’s advice from Patrick Stewart at a fan convention regarding real-world affairs: I wouldn’t want just Ben Kingsley but his writers backed by real experts in psychotherapy. Or just a Kingsley-esque care-provider.
Also, classically (which is to say in the 90s) your psychiatrist would oversee the patient’s therapy, not only prescribing medication but also referrals to therapists, hospitalization programs and support groups. These days, it can be your therapist or anyone. (Or as the case is when everyone assumes the other guy is the overseer, no-one.)
I was wanting to write about the representation of mental health, what’s still weird and what isn’t. But my own mind is not working well tonight. In fact, hasn’t been since yesterday, mostly due to added anxiety. The whole phone thing threw me for a loop.