THERAPISTS

                                                                   Therapists

I once had a therapist who I thought was going to be great, at least we started off well.  But, I learned about a year later that this woman was full of fear and would not discuss it or even own it. That does not work for me. Her lack of real support was one of the reasons I ended up having extensive ECT treatments. I’d had knee replacement surgery and did not do well on the narcotic pain medication, the main side-effect was to make me foggy and groggy at the dinner table. I was also in denial that this was happening. I had nowhere to turn except to my suicide plan.  Then my primary care doctor, the useless therapist who I was still seeing, and two close friends thought maybe hospitalization and ECT would help.

Shock therapy is not really too bad. I’ve been asked if it helped or what the result was. I figured out the answer – it bought me time. I needed time to get back on track.

It bought me time to find my current, intense, brave therapist. She can handle hearing my doubts and misunderstandings (with her or with others). She loves her work and I can definitely feel that. She has a different style, but the honesty is always present.

I don’t know why therapists think we can’t tell when they are scared, bored, lying, or clueless. We can tell. I can tell. Yes, you can tell. Think about it. Remember how you felt when a therapist did or said something you thought was kind of strange. Did you ask them about it?  Would they discuss it with you? Did they respect your perceptions? If they put it back on you – that’s just not right and you know it. It may be deep inside you, or not so deep, but some part of you knows this person has work of her own to do. If they can’t own that, you need to find someone else.

Sometimes you have to go to many counselors to find the one for you. It could also be that one works for a while then runs out of ideas for you and is willing to send you on to another.

I guess this is where the part of trusting yourself comes in. IT’S A VERY BIG DEAL and you will begin to like how you feel, so much more, when you can – trust yourself, that is.

At one point I was seeing a therapist who was into MPD (Multiple Personality Disorder) which it was called then. Every time some new personality made an appearance this therapist was thrilled. But, when a very angry one showed up and told her they would like to slit her throat, that was over the line for her. She had me admitted to a psych hospital and then told them she would no longer be my therapist.

It turns out she was afraid of me. She had done a lot of digging to get to my anger and when we did it freaked her out. She was petrified. At that time I was awfully hurt. I had been in this hospital before and my attending doc there was very encouraging. He said it was for the best, that she couldn’t help me anyhow. So the hospital, my best friend and I went looking for another shrink – again.

Sober for 10 years and now wearing this anger on the inside and outside of me, like 60 grit sandpaper. And I didn’t think anyone else could see it. Banging pillows and turning bricks to dust with a hammer did not help. They actually made it worse by working me up into a rage then there was no place to go with it.

The best help I ever got was from a psychiatrist. I found her accidentally. I decided that the next one I went to was going to get it all, nothing held back. If it didn’t work this time I was checking out for good. I’d just talked to this woman (psychiatrist) once on the phone. I was irritated because I had to call her twice before she called me back, but she sounded okay. Waiting room with two white wicker chairs. She opened the door wearing jeans, tennis shoes, turtle neck, and sweat shirt. Lots of thick red hair pulled back in a braid.  Her office was plain, white wicker loveseat, two white wicker chairs with tropical print fabric cushions. There was a small rattan table and a director’s chair where she sat. That was it. No curtains on windows, no shades, nothing on the walls, no bookcases and no plants.  I sat in a chair with its back to the windows so no one could see me even though we were on the second floor. In my heart I knew only one thing, if it didn’t work with this one, I was done. That’s exactly what I told her.

She was at the end of a long list of therapists, psychologists, gestalt counselors, and psychiatrists, people who’d been telling me things about myself or trying to get me to say things about myself for years - starting at about sixteen. Now I was 40 or so and I’d had it. When Garland called my last therapist for my records Francine admitted that she did not know what to do with me. After that it took me three months to be able to call G. by her name.  She had clear spirit. And, I don't remember her ever taking notes.  

Every week we would just start with what was coming up that day. There was a lot of stuff, a lot of memories and a lot that was held for me by other parts. Somewhere around age 6 or 7 I began to dissociate. I don’t know how it happened, but I could not take what was happening to me so these various children and adult personalities would sort of take my place. Sometimes I could see them as I was floating up in a corner of a room. Sometimes I remembered what they helped me with, but mostly it was their secret. In my psychiatrist's office they started telling me what happened, all of it. I was in and out of a psych hospital several times over these years. I’d sometimes cut myself, or take too many pills. Once the fear around a memory was so great she had me admitted to the hospital, then drove up there to see me and have the session in a place that was safe for me. I told you she was amazing.

I thought it would never stop. Then one day it was over. The main body of physical, sexual and verbal attacks were out in the open.  It was not the end of the work at all, but no more huge things presented themselves. I’d found out what the great mass of pain was about. 

This BLOG is dedicated to Garland because she worked so hard for me, way over the top. Other than slowly paying off her bill, there is no way that I know to thank her adequately. I want you to find someone like this. They are out there – I believe that. Trust your instincts.