I saw the psychiatrist yesterday. She asked about an injury from a couple months ago- if it has healed and I said mostly and told her about the state of its healing. I was wanting soothing- hopefully in the form of it’s going to be ok or that’s not uncommon but even in the form of information would have been fine- like x is happening because y. I would like to know and I have no one else to ask. I don’t want to see my regular medical doctor if I don’t have to and I think he’s an idiot anyway. She pursed her lips and lightly shook her head at me then moved on to another topic. I feel judged by her when I was reaching out for help. I could have kept the whole thing from her and it was frightening to tell her the truth but I chose not to keep it to myself. I can’t figure out how to stop thinking about it. Every time I close my eyes I see her shaking her head at me, like she’s shaming me and telling me I’m hopeless. I’m very in control of my urges these days but just feel so hurt by her response. Before this appointment my therapist had asked me a couple times when I’m going to see her again and said that I need to tell her about a couple things and ask if there’s anything she can do. I didn’t ask directly about that stuff, just reported it. And didn’t get much of a response. I feel like she’s sick of me and I don’t understand because in most ways I’m getting much better. I liked her at first. I go to therapy 3 x’s a week but only see men and she’s a woman. I liked having a woman to talk to. She increased the dose of one med and said that if it doesn’t work we can try one another med but then she said if that doesn’t work then medicine can’t do anything for me. I felt like she was saying that she’s ready to give up on me. She’s made an exit plan. When I first saw her she said that I didn’t clearly fit in anywhere, diagnosis wise, but that’s ok because you’re you and we’ll figure out what we can do. It’s been less than 6 months but her attitude has changed. I guess because she’s gotten to know me a bit. It makes me feel like I hate myself. She was seeing me once every 4 weeks, now she’s only going to see me once every 6 weeks. Is that normal? I hate having people call me hopeless. I’m not hopeless. I’m improving a lot, getting a lot stronger. I don’t think I’m such a horrible person. I’m thankful for my therapist. He doesn’t judge me. I’ve only even seen him look disturbed once. And he says that even if I mess up it’s ok- it’s not a reflection of my overall health. When I told him about a past psychiatrist who said that unless I take a certain med I didn’t want to take, there was “nothing that can be done for people like me,” he said back sharply, “That person didn’t know what they were talking about. As long as a person is alive there’s hope.” I’m trying to hang on.
I feel ya here, because i had a kinda similar experience with a school nurse back in high school and it really hurt me a lot at the time. It’s really great that you’re doing so much better. That success belongs to you, and no one’s words or actions can take it away…there is absolutely hope for you, and that’s proof. You’re going in the right direction, so don’t let someone’s careless words deter you–you are not responsible for them.
Is there any way your therapist could help you with this? He sounds like a pretty cool guy.
Keep hanging on!
Hang in there girl. If ya feel ur psychiatrist is judgeing you maybe ya should find a new one, thats what i would do.
Last time I posted I wasn’t happy the treatment I got from my psychiatrist.
I want to say what happened next. Now that I don’t feel that I’m every moment all the way on the ledge, I’ve been thinking about using this space to blog some about my process of recovery, instead of just screaming for help, though no one really seems to use it that way.
I talked to my therapist. He suggested practicing some interpersonal skills and telling the psychiatrist how I felt. This hadn’t occurred to me. I think that’s kind of big to realize- this hadn’t even occurred to me. In a way a feel like I’ve been hypnotized into not to seeing or responding to my emotions and I understand the process of being hypnotized as the invalidating environment. I understand that one thing I can do now is try to make my family (I’m a Mom) a validating environment. I think there might be a safer way to live. I think expressing myself as “wounded” really means that I feel terribly and deeply wounded. I don’t feel safe. My therapist called some treatment I’ve received (from my family of origin) as, “sadistic.” That’s a strong word that feels just like a peddle to turn over and over in my mind. I know that for family therapy I can tell the therapist that my new treatment goal is to make my family a validating environment.
Back on track: My therapist really kind of made a push for me to assert myself. He said we could work out a script, in a round about way he said I could call her from there (the idea of that for some reason makes me so sad and terrified: like I see some of the real work to be done and I don’t think I can make it.) I’m still trying to even work out the idea that I could call her to talk about something like this. That just doesn’t seem right to me. I feel like I just don’t understand. That’s sort of the piece of the puzzle that I’m up to now.
That’s it for now.
Or: one more thing. In even thinking about asserting myself I feel like my whole world view in which I don’t matter is at stake. It’s more intensity than I can bare because I can’t break apart my feelings.