Who decides what's best for me?

Dr. Funny graduated me from weekly visits to bi-weekly visits. And not precisely because of my mental stability, but due to pressure from my insurance company.

Back in September, I was seeing him twice per week. After a month when he asked me if I would be all right if we saw each other only once per week, I said yes, and felt very proud of myself, thinking that it was a sign of progress, that I could go through a whole week without the need of sharing my thoughts and feeling reassured.

Well, it turns out that, back then, it was also the insurance company who insisted that once per week was enough.

Said insurance company recently sent me a self-help brochure on depression and anxiety, probably hoping that I will pull myself from my bootstraps and stop causing them such an expense.

I hate self-help books. Even if I agree 100% with what they say, I just can't bother to read them. I reserve my reading moments to books I actually enjoy. Self-help literature feels like unwanted homework.

That said, I've checked all sorts of books from the library on depression, infertility, miscarriage, meditation and even relaxation. Whenever someone recommends a book I make a honest attempt to read it. No good. I'm not meant to read that kind of stuff, even when it seems like a good idea.

I wish I could explain this to my insurance company.