I feel like I give too much of myself to this world. I hope too much. Love too much. Am too much.
A few days ago, I posted about the awful experience I had with this therapist. That night, I talked to a dear friend who is in the psychology field. She pointed out that this therapist likely has a very conventional view of relationships, and can’t conceive of anything different. Which is sad; they’re supposed to be aware of cultural differences with their clients and have enough Theory of Mind to work with clients who are very different from themselves. (Ironically, it’s we autistics who are said to lack Theory of Mind, when in my experience, it’s usually neurotypicals who lack it.)
My friend also pointed out […]
I’ve had such bad experiences with therapists. This one was the only one in my city who would take my insurance and was accepting new patients now, not two or three years from now (that is literally the wait list for most of them). When we started early this year, I thought she was going to be good. I told her I’m autistic and sometimes I speak slowly, so I need you to be patient and give me time to process my words. She seemed to understand, and she did that at first.
But lately she’s been interrupting me, talking over me, talking past me… and […]
I used this site years ago. Then my life changed, and I didn’t need to anymore. Or so I thought. If only trauma were that easy to recover from.
Today I feel like it might even be impossible for me to fully and permanently recover from. I will always be this broken. I will always be on the outside looking in. I will always be waiting for someone else to decide when — or if — my life gets to begin.
Every day like this breaks me a little further. Keeps me that little bit more removed from the possibility of healing.