In about 25 minutes, I will leave to go see a psychiatrist for the first time. I have seen plenty of psychotherapists, but only at this stage in my life have I gotten my act together enough to really take advantage of an objective opinion, and actually made an effort.

I've spilled my deepest, most uncomfortable secrets, and I've dug up the rancid graves of my past. I've stopped disrespecting myself, and I've started paying attention to my actions and reactions. I was really ready for this, really ready to get everything straight, ready to feel good about life, and about myself.

So I've done all of my internal and external housekeeping. I've tended to the garden of my life and pulled the weeds, fed the peach tree.

It's not enough. My therapist recommends a psychiatrist - he feels I am well adjusted and correct, yet I still feel skewed. So off to the psychiatrist I go, hoping for a more potent version of Miracle Gro for my metaphorical garden.

I'm terrified.

the outcome: welcome to paxiltown. enjoy your stay.