I asked in a previous post, “And now what?”, and I suppose I’ve decided a next step. Â Despite the many people urging me to make another attempt I’ve decided to try something I’ve never done and that is to speak with a therapist.
It will be the first time in my life I’ve spoken to a mental health / behavioral health specialist and I’m absolutely terrified. Â I made a call today and received several names as reference and have telephoned each to speak with them though, I have no idea how to select the “right” one. Â Hell, I don’t even know what to expect. Â Will I be asked to lie upon a sofa while he/she sits there tapping their chin with a sharp Number-2 pencil as I spew forth every secret detail of my life? Â And what exactly are they writing? A grocery list? Â Notes on evidence for my committal to an institution? Â Proper “meds” to prescribe to get me to shut up? Â Are they preparing for a new article on their blog, “My Next Great Mentally Insane Patient … and my new Mercedes”?
I have yet to have any of my calls returned but of course I didn’t phone until this afternoon so I suspect I should hear something tomorrow. Â The thought of doing this brings me to a level of anxiety I have never known. Â I am shaking, perspiring, my breathing is heavy, thoughts are racing and I’m sitting here rocking back and forth as I write this. Â I’m extremely thirsty yet every time I drink a bit of water it does not stay down.
I joined an on-line chat session with the national “Lifeline” and basically, it was a joke: “I’m glad you’ve taken this step – now you will see your previous attempts were mistakes and that you simply needed a rescue…” Â (end chat) RESCUE! Â There’s that word again. Â As long as I can remember my “rescue” would be in the form of an exit to this existence and that any form of interference to my plans would be the total opposite of “rescue”. Â I don’t need all the mumbo-jumbo, I just need to try this as I’ve never reached out to such a professional. Â Then if it does not work for me … then and only then will I be confident in knowing that I’ve exhausted all options.
How did you choose your “shrink” and what is it like, this therapy? Â How did you feel during your first session?
16 comments
My first session was a waste of an hour. I went in thinking it would be good for me, that I’d benefit from a session of self-reflection. She basically sat there and rubbed my hand and said that I’m “very sick”. And then spent the next forty five minutes asking how I feel. Not about anything specific. Just “How do you feel?”. Apparently sick wasn’t an appropriate answer.
I never chose mine – she was assigned. I have to do it, it’s mandatory.
Though I doubt you’d care about what I have to say on the subject seeing as I’m under half your age. And judging by your old posts – you don’t like us kiddie winkles.
Why did you delete your old posts?
I hope you won’t consider me a “kiddie winkles,” SometimeSoon. I want to add my voice to yours in expressing distrust of therapy in general. I wish I could remember the citation, but first semesterI read a paper by this research team that found the effectiveness of therapy was more dependent on how well therapist and client got along than on the professional qualifications of the therapist. And recently another review came out calling for massive reforms in psychological therapy because patient outcomes didn’t validate the therapies looked at. Looking back on my own experiences with supposedly excellent therapists, I find therapy no more effective than journaling–especially when you’re terrified that your therapist can lock you up if you say the wrong things. Prone to human error themselves, therapists can even be very hurtful…
Hope that wasn’t too confusing. I understand and agree with your trepidation.
Oh man… i can totally relate to what i think you meant by this: “RESCUE! There’s that word again.”
So many triggers… that “rescue” is the type of trigger that infuriates me most. That’s hulk-mode territory.
I sort of agree with IowaGirl, about journal vs. therapy… except that You (all of us) are your own best therapist, and your journals can be used to help refine your thoughts and feelings into useful words, so that when the subject comes up, you can use the fewest possible words to explain, spend the least amount of time and energy, and move on to the next thing, instead of being overwhelmed by stuff you can’t escape or erase from your own past.
I recently read something that keeps resonating with me, and that is that with this type of stuff, the only way that works is Through, Not Around. You have to “get through it.” If you make a big enough hole through it, it won’t stop your flow anymore… and you can get on to better things.
I know that probably sounds way too hyper-positive for most of you, but think about it. “Through, not around.” You can’t just not deal with it. You have to deal with it thoroughly, completely, put it to rest, and leave it behind… or you’ll be stuck struggling with it until the end.
Also, sidenote: since IowaGirl used the word “trepidation,” everyone should check out “Gunshot to the head of trepidation” by Trivium (and then go look up what “trivium” means, if you don’t already know).
@noonoo12: the experience you described is what I’m apprehensive about. Ugh. Also, I have no idea what you mean by the age comment unless you’re referencing the comment I made to the Jesus-freak. Too, I just looked and all 4 or so of my posts are still here. You are obviously referencing someone else.
@iowagirl: I never made the “kiddie” remark – noonoo12 came up with that one. Yes, I suppose it all boils down to trusting the professional. Journaling: I’ve attempted this but just can’t seem to find the energy to keep it going on a regular basis. Perhaps I’ll attempt this again.
@clevername: “rescue” has almost become a 4-letter word to me. You’ve made a few interesting points and now I’m thinking about how I’ve handled past issues. Interesting.
@SometimeSoon
Your experience will most likely be better, I think I just got stuck with a woman bored with her job.
Yeah I think I was referencing someone else, it was late when I wrote the comment.
By the way, I quite like bible bashers. They make me hopeful that I could maybe one day acquire the ability to believe in an entity so great.
I’ve always been a bit jealous that they have something like that to believe in. Never been able to myself. I hope your session goes well. 🙂
Thanks noonoo12. I completely understand.
As far as the bible-bashers (I like that term), I have no room for them or their mysticism in my life and they hold absolutely nothing that interests me. My beliefs are firmly founded on fact and probably the only solid foundation I have in my life. What’s more solid than science? You mix a little hydrogen with a little oxygen and BOOM! you get a little water. Add a little more oxygen and you get a whitening agent for your hair. This will always be. It’s solid. It does not change. It’s something tangible that can be experienced with all of the human senses.
On the other hand, if such spiritual beliefs are beneficial to some then I see no issue with one choosing to incorporate it into their life – as long as it causes no harm to others. But point your proselytism in my direction and I will bite.
@SometimeSoon
But Jesus is the answer! (I’m joking by the way) Science holds no mystery to it though, it either is or it isn’t. I suppose that’s comforting in a way, but I’d like to feel what it’s like to rely entirely on something else, a greater being. But I know it isn’t going to happen. It’s weird how we always seem to want what we can’t have.
I doubt I’ll be proselytizing anyone (I don’t know if I used that in the correct sense because I had to google what it meant). Jesus is unfortunately not my lord and saviour and I’m too lazy to convince people that he (and other gods of other religions) doesn’t exist.
I had to chuckle at that, noonoo12. Thanks. But science is indeed filled with mystery. New discoveries are made seemingly on a daily basis and not one of these attempt to persuade others to believe or suffer the ultimate penalty of death coupled with eternal fire. Rather and as an example, believe if you will the Earth is flat (there actually people out there who DO believe it is flat!). The belief does it make it so; that has been disproved. It used to also be thinking that physical maladies such as birth defects were the result of a “displeased god”. Now we know many of those were simply due to inbreeding and the others by genetic abnormalities. But I’ll not debate the issue as it is and always been been quite boring to me.
Meanwhile, today is the first time in such a long while that harming myself was not the focus of my thoughts. I now have an appointment with a psychologist at the beginning of the week so I’m simply muddling along and waiting to see what comes of it. Still, I find myself occasionally emitting guttural sounds as I lift something or simply while looking out the window as people scurry back & forth and cars, buses and cyclists whiz past. It still physically hurts.
@SometimeSoon
I didn’t think about it like that. But yeah, you’re right. Inbreeding. 🙂
Do you self-harm?
And why does it physically hurt?
I don’t “self-harm” I suppose in the the way most would have it defined. I have realised that I have more or less retreated from life, “friends”, etc and from what I see this is common for those like us. But, I just can’t deal with being around people right now. Everything I see and hear just .. pisses me off for some reason. It disgusts me.
The self-harm: I suppose that would be in the form of a permanent exit such as I what I attempted almost a week ago. I don’t require that at the moment.
I can’t say why it physically hurts and it does not even seem logical that it would but … it just does. Thinking about even taking a walk to a park or along the waterfront causes an internal pain. Just the thought of dressing, grabbing my keys then approaching my door to leave … the door seems to hurt. On the other side is millions of people scurrying here and there with phones plastered to their ears blabbing about “hangin’ out, yo!” all the while with smiles that just seem almost foreign. I don’t know why it hurts and neither can I fully explain the pain.
You hit your toe on a corner and then grab your foot while expressing “OOWWWIIIEE!!!”. You hit your elbow and it causes a full gasp of air as you grab feverishly at your arm. I look out the window and I feel my chest begin to heave, my body begin to tremble and an almost heavy thud deep inside which causes an uncontrollable moan of pain. I don’t know how else to describe it or even how to explain why it happens.
So you’ve slowly isolated yourself and now feel physical pain whenever you try to do something?
One of my cousins is like that. But he’s agoraphobic. I don’t think that’s what you are? I mean you have some elements of it, you feel pain when you try to leave and you’re “scared” (can’t think of the word I want) of “hurting” the door.
But to have retreated from life? Jesus (sorry in advance). I can understand your intolerance of people. Although in my experience, it’s more a fear of them..
Do you ever just feel like weird sensations of pure weakness? Actually that might be it described in the last paragraph, but I thought I’d just ask anyway.
I’ve gone to appease family. A psychologist will talk to you and a psychiatrist will give you pills. As far as psychologists go I think it’s a waste. A friend is just as helpful and they don’t cost money plus they actually care about you. A psychiatrist …hmm…well I have never taken pills for depression before. I am under the impression that pills are pretty much guesswork. I mean there is no established level of dopamine or seratonin that is across the board proper baseline. They don’t even measure it. Some studies show placebo effect equal to the some of the drugs. Some studies show proper diet and exercise can be as effective as some of the drugs. Its really vague and I wanna call bullshit and say its all simple profiteering because its really like…you’re sad? Here have some drugs. Hope somethin works for ya man…if you do end up taking drugs let me know how that is.
I’m surprised your so old and haven’t been through this avenue yet. It sounds like you’ve been feeling this way for like freaking decades…am I wrong?
After reading your last comment I suggest you do try the drugs. There prolly gonna prescribe you an anti anxiety and anti depressant meds. A therapist/counselor/psychologist can’t presribe you these things.
I remember in the waiting room I sat next to this one guy. He was old prolly early 40s. You could freaking tell this guy needed some drugs. I’m sittin there and he’s nervous as fuck. Like this guy keeps fidgeting and what not. He was so uncomfortable that it was starting to make me uncomfortable which takes some effort. So I compliment the guy on his hat just to calm him down and ackowledge him as a human being haha. He settled a bit after that but man dude had a wife…she picked out the hat. I was surprised.
The waiting room is the best part a the whole experience. Everytime I went I would casually look around and try and guess why everyone was there. Like this old guy too much anxiety. Girl in school clothes depression or ADD. Husband and wife marriage counseling. Ugliest woman I ever seen don’t know don’t care just don’t look at me. I felt like Jack Nicholson in One Flew Over The Cuckoos Nest it was funny for me.
@noonoo12: It’s not a fear of venturing out into public or anything like that. It’s just that when I am it seems I am surrounded by all these wonderfully perfect individuals and I’m just some bat-shit crazy guy in the middle of them. Their expressions of happiness just seem to make me feel worse. So, I just opt to keep away from them. Lately though, it seems that when I am near others I just can not deal with their smiles and jovial attitudes an when I do need to go somewhere, it’s almost as if anxiety takes over. dunno. The isolation seems like it just comes with the territory, so to speak.
@calimike: I think I’ve been dealing with this for approximately 25 years. About 15 years ago I was to the point of wishing to exit. I entered a metro station and patiently waiting for the next train to arrive. As I felt the warm air rushing out of the tunnel signaling the arrival of the next vehicle I stepped forward of the yellow line and was ready with flexed legs to jump at just the right moment. Literally seconds before the jump I glanced to my right and saw a young girl, no more than 5 or 6, holding her mother’s (?) hand and staring at me. She smiled. There was no way I could have done that in front of her after all, it’s not the most scenic thing for a young child to witness.
So for 15 years I suppose this has been building up. I work. I throw on a smile when in public. I go through the motions of having a beer with friends. Then I go home. As far as never going to a therapist: I grew up in the 70’s & 80’s. Before the 90’s you just “dealt” with it. You didn’t go around chatting with others about your feelings, etc and if you did it was only because you were a weak *****. Get over it. You just need to get laid. Here, let’s drop some acid or toke on some weed then you’ll feel much better and if that doesn’t do it let’s get loved up on a nice rolex and party all night at the club.
I remember the first time I saw Oprah on television chatting about “feelings” and such: my eyes popped open and I was all “what da fuq is this shit!?”. Then came Dr. Phil and his bullshit – pussies! Let me play my violin for you as you blubber away, you pitiful excuse of a man, you. As a child in school I was bullied and bullied severely. Hell, the teachers even joined in. I remember – grade 6 or 7? – this group of “popular” guys surrounded me outside in the corner, knocked my books out of my hand then each of them pissed on the pile. They ran off to class yelling “n*gger lips!” to me as I stood there wondering what to do. I went on to class with nothing in hand and when the teacher asked why I did not have my text book and note paper I didn’t say anything. She asked again and I cowered in silence, red-faced, at my desk.
She then had me stand in front of the class to explain otherwise I would receive a spanking – she was holding “The Enforcer”, a large, wide paddle with holes drilled in to “increase effectiveness and supply a nice *whack* sound. “My book got pee’d on” I was humiliated. The class burst out in laughter and she responded in a chuckle, “Go sit down. Maybe this will teach you stop being such a freak.”. I was known as “Piss Boy” the rest of the year.
The next year I ended up needing glasses. Yeah. Great. I came into school, sat down in my front row seat then listened as the class became silent. “What th….” came from the teacher. “Well, I think they make you look distinguished.”, she said. I looked up and actually smiled – my goodness! I’m normal! Then she laughed, shook her head and sat down at her desk. “Four-eyes” was being yelled at me during class and she never made a sound – only laughed.
I have so many stories such as this but you know, during that day & age bullying was just part of life an I have the scars from being picked on to prove it. If you said anything you were a “wimp” or a “cry baby” … and these were words from the teachers so it *must* be true. An it wasn’t any better at home – not in the least.
That was then and this is now and I now know this was absolutely wrong. But it’s taken me this long to realize there must be something to the whole therapy and “chatting about stuff” thing. Yeah, we’ve all got our stories. I sometimes fantasize about going back to those schools, finding the teachers (many are still there even!) in the classrooms and playing the part of the former student only to begin explaining how cruel this person really is. In *this* day & age I don’t think they would have a job for very long, after. But hey – that’s just me dreaming.
In actuality, I’ve written letters to each of those teachers expressing my feelings towards how they treated me and what the affect was. I’ll never send them of course, but hey – I wrote them.
So yeah – I suppose that’s a little more about me and why it’s taken me so long to get to the point of asking for help. blah blah blah I suppose. We all have our story.
PS – I loved the description of the waiting room. I’m sort of looking forward to that part.
The whole suck it up have a smoke and get laid. Yea I feel that that’s usually the advice I get. When I tell em like well it doesn’t quite do the trick like its good don’t get me wrong but is it worth it I don’t know. Honestly though man talking about feelings …I don’t do that shit in person cause I’m a guy n all but uh….talking about feelings doesnt change my feelings. At least that’s been my experience.
Have fun in the waiting room haha.