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Saturday, 7 December 2013

News from Thursday

So, Thursday I was too tired to write. Friday just ran out of its last hour and I didn't get to write either until just now. I should because I have relatively big news, blog. Thursday was my last session with the therapist. 

Why do I feel like I had another big piece of news to share and now I can't remember it? See? This is why I should not have been too lazy to write about it on Thursday.

The therapist essentially said "I'm going to leave you to sort things out in group therapy. What I'm doing here is not working." Did I sense a bit of anger on her part? Did I feel that she was taking it personally? A little. Was I tempted to judge her inexperience? Very. I actually sort of do hold her empty promises against her. "I feel like we're getting to the heart of the matter/we're making progress." Or whatever else she said two weeks ago when she told me to write about how I felt about maths. "I'll teach you how to make friends and, as a treat, teach you how to get a boyfriend." "We still have 3 more sessions left. How do you want to use them?" Do I blame myself for bashing a book I knew was meaningful to her? A little. Have I been tempted to talk to the person supervising her to ask for a second opinion? Very. 

The therapist gave me her card with her e-mail address and phone number and said to contact her if I want her to hook me up with someone who can prescribe medication. Just like that. She didn't pitch for it, she just said it in a "I'm leaving your hot mess for someone else to deal with."

A number of things bother me about this. 

1. I broke out crying. (More on that later, I think.)

2. I compared myself to a toddler feeling frustrated about not being able to do things I see others doing with ease and rationalise I should be able to do (like know how to handle and talk about my feelings.)

3. She said I'd made progress in talking about my feelings but in fuck all else.

4. She didn't mention the goals we set out for and I kind of feel like she was blaming me for not doing everything she asked. More specifically, she didn't say it in so many words, but she basically stated that I was being stupid for staying in a situation that made me unhappy in spite of all my reasons (the greater good, yada, yada, yada) for making my choice. 

5. I agreed with her and told her I was fine with it, and then it hit me that it sort of leaves me completely alone and it makes me very lonely to know I won't have her to vent to. I don't feel comfortable drawing attention to myself during group therapy and I haven't been in group therapy long enough to have gotten the hang of it. While there's the tough love approach to just letting me land on my butt and make it work, what if group therapy doesn't work? Right now she knows I have trouble with even the most basic "let's all bring some food and write each other nice words" exercises. Then she's just pretty much left me defenceless and it brings me to my next point.

6. I get the feeling that she just plain doesn't care. I've said it before, she doesn't have to. But I shouldn't believe she doesn't care. She should pretend to be more empathetic and to worry. Shouldn't she? Frankly, I don't know anymore.

7. Shouldn't she have made the conversation about medication a longer one?

8. I fucking looked forward to talking to her, just for the sake of knowing I had someone's undivided attention for an almost full hour when I got to vent. 

9. There was so much more I wanted to talk about (SmTn, self-esteem, EBF, feeling objectified). 

10. I think the drugs talk deserved a proper conversation. Not just a "Oh, and do you want to try drugs?" Shit, you can't just treat that lightly. It's an addictive substance you will be dependent on for the rest of your life. It fucking costs money (and won't be covered by insurance). I would actually have to tell people about it. And she doesn't bring any of this up? Just like she didn't bring up whatever she said we could pick up on "next time"?

What did I even expect going into therapy? 

What should I talk about on Wednesday, if anything at all?

I've considered talking about how I worry too much about doing everything wrong. I think about things a lot before doing them, if I can, thinking I'll avoid mistakes and regrets. Except I don't, I still feel I had room for improvement after everything is said and done. I've considered talking about whether or not to take the offer to get prescription medication and how justified/reasonable my fears of having less money available each month and believing I should be able to handle this on my own are. I want to talk about feeling objectified because now that I'm truly alone I fear that even SmTn saw me as nothing more than a pretty face. 

A-ha! I remember! It's the woman at the bus stop.

As I waited for the bus to arrive, a woman who had sort of just walked into the bus stop but took a sudden interest in me started talking to me. It was such a strange conversation, though. She seemed to be a clairvoyant testing her powers, trying to guess things about me. She started out with my age. "Let me see if I can get this right.. you are... 32? No, 35? No... 29 years old. Am I right?" Nope, turning 25 in February. "Have you lost weight recently? (I think that's what threw me off)" Why, yes. She tried to guess what I studied and she guessed just about everything before trying maths. She seemed to believe I'm local for a while. The conversation went on in the bus, where she made sure to sit in the seat across the walkway from mine but the bus engine was too loud for me to hear her well. It all ended with her asking about what I heard as "clap" and asking whether I knew what it was. All I could think of was clapping, as in putting your hands together quickly and making noise. But she desisted after I said I didn't know what she was talking about and got off the bus a few stops later. It's odd that when I noticed she must have gotten off the bus I tried to look which way she went but I couldn't see her. There was a strange air about her which made me think of the Harry Potter universe and witches in the muggle world. It was as if she was a Sybill Trelawney of sorts (why, she even looked a bit like the film version of her, if she had grey hair and lost her glasses), but also a witch trying to recognise another and ultimately deciding "Oh, no. Wrong number." 

It got me thinking, though. I don't look like the person I think I am. I have to wonder what I actually look like to others because I'm certainly being judged (and more often misjudged) based on that. For the first time, pretty much ever, I felt objectified. Like all along I've just been this thing that everyone sees for something else. An apple living the life of a fruit punch, if you will. Or maybe the other way round, that's a terrible analogy. 

Just think about it. I've very much ran out of friends. Only three friends sort of remain "on paper" (as in we-could-sort-of-still-start-a-conversation-at-some-point): A, AOB, EBF. I ranked them. There's CtThumbe too, but not really. I mean, she's lovely and I think nice things about her but we're friendly acquaintances who get along quite well. Not friends-friends. And look at how much I talk to my friends. Look at how much I talk to people. Look at how I started a blog to make up for it and now desperately (and futilely) look for ways to get this blog out there, read. I so desperately look for a human connection and fail miserably to find meaning in anything.

I need the practice:

This week's low is that my therapist gave up on me. Or she said she wasn't helping and I agreed but it feels like she just gave up on me. And that the thermostat is set even warmer. Mother. fucker.

This week's high is that next Friday I'll go to cooler climates and to the people who care about me and aren't selfish and don't actively plot my demise. Another high is the reminder that most people are nice, as evidenced in the stranger who helped me catch the bus I was a few seconds too late to catch at the stop, the lady who didn't make a big deal about my contract (I was a bit mortified to even show my face around her after the whole "asking if my pay was right" debacle), and the maths department professor I talked to about auditing a class. I initially felt stupid for asking if it was him with the pink shirt (actually red and white in itty bitty thin stripes) and wondered if he was taking an extra-long time to get to me because of it. But then he was nice. So, self-esteem. I haz none. 

Thought-feeling-action? Thought: I'm lonely. And quite literally alone. And stuck, and frustrated, and annoyed to have lost my freedom and independence, and fucking helpless. Feelings: sadness, despair, frustration, anger. Action: cry at night and during therapy sessions because I can't do a damned thing about the above. I can't change the situations that make me think the thoughts. I can't make myself not think the thoughts because they continue to be true. I can't make the thoughts not lead to the feelings because that's exactly how those thoughts develop when you ferment them. Same for the crying.

And I need to talk to someone about the taking medication dilemma. That's a big fucking conversation.

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