k75
L'appel du Vide
- Jun 27, 2019
- 2,546
I don't know what I expect here. I guess it's just that I need to vent a little. I'm just so frustrated. And scared. The way things are now, I'm reaching out for help as much as I can and despite that, I'm afraid they're going to just allow me to kill myself.
I know my problems, and I've done enough self-reflection to know what needs to be done about them. I just don't have a clue about HOW to do any of it. And I can't find anyone else who knows, either.
I'm searching for a new therapist. I don't know how to find one that might be able to help. But I do know my current one is halfassing everything.
I've been overlooking a lot, but today might have been the last straw. I constantly have to try and redirect her focus to my actual problems, and away from what she thinks are the causes of my depression like being away from family, isolating, whatever. She assumes I'm lonely, though I'm not. She assumes a lot.
I have to tell her every other session I'm not depressed because I am cooped up in my house. I don't mind quarantine. I won't be fixed by volunteer work or sitting in a park being around people.
The truth is, I do not want to exist to other people. I don't want them to ever see me. I want to be as small and anonymous as possible and not have an impact on anyone's life. And I tell her this explicitly, every time she says I have great things to offer the world and need to interact with people. It actually makes my anxiety spike to think of something like volunteering, but she's convinced I should and that's why I'm depressed.
I tell her I'm depressed because I'm chronically sick and mutilated and lost the only future I wanted. I'm depressed because I can't stop grieving anything ever, and I'm depressed because I'm plagued by flashbacks and memories. And every time I say it, she's surprised. And really... Is volunteering somewhere or petting baby animals going to fix these things?
Today, we had a session over the phone as usual since covid crap hit. And she was on her boat, doing chores. She was distracted. It was not good. We talked about the surgery that destroyed me, and she seemed to honestly not realize this was the number 1 issue I have. The reason I started therapy. She didn't remember me ever telling her I'd rather never have done it and be dead than be here living with the aftermath. She knows I'm suicidal, too, but she never seems to comprehend it.
How do you forget being told something like that? How do you hear that and not think it's important enough to maybe try to center some therapy around?
And it's not like she's the first therapist to fail me. I lost count at some point, but there were at least 11 before her. I've had good ones who admitted I needed more than they could offer. But I've also had a lot of awful ones, like the one that actually told me to stop being a Negative Nancy.
I need someone who knows how to deal with real problems. I need a specialist of some sort. I wish I knew how to find one. They've got to exist.
I know my problems, and I've done enough self-reflection to know what needs to be done about them. I just don't have a clue about HOW to do any of it. And I can't find anyone else who knows, either.
I'm searching for a new therapist. I don't know how to find one that might be able to help. But I do know my current one is halfassing everything.
I've been overlooking a lot, but today might have been the last straw. I constantly have to try and redirect her focus to my actual problems, and away from what she thinks are the causes of my depression like being away from family, isolating, whatever. She assumes I'm lonely, though I'm not. She assumes a lot.
I have to tell her every other session I'm not depressed because I am cooped up in my house. I don't mind quarantine. I won't be fixed by volunteer work or sitting in a park being around people.
The truth is, I do not want to exist to other people. I don't want them to ever see me. I want to be as small and anonymous as possible and not have an impact on anyone's life. And I tell her this explicitly, every time she says I have great things to offer the world and need to interact with people. It actually makes my anxiety spike to think of something like volunteering, but she's convinced I should and that's why I'm depressed.
I tell her I'm depressed because I'm chronically sick and mutilated and lost the only future I wanted. I'm depressed because I can't stop grieving anything ever, and I'm depressed because I'm plagued by flashbacks and memories. And every time I say it, she's surprised. And really... Is volunteering somewhere or petting baby animals going to fix these things?
Today, we had a session over the phone as usual since covid crap hit. And she was on her boat, doing chores. She was distracted. It was not good. We talked about the surgery that destroyed me, and she seemed to honestly not realize this was the number 1 issue I have. The reason I started therapy. She didn't remember me ever telling her I'd rather never have done it and be dead than be here living with the aftermath. She knows I'm suicidal, too, but she never seems to comprehend it.
How do you forget being told something like that? How do you hear that and not think it's important enough to maybe try to center some therapy around?
And it's not like she's the first therapist to fail me. I lost count at some point, but there were at least 11 before her. I've had good ones who admitted I needed more than they could offer. But I've also had a lot of awful ones, like the one that actually told me to stop being a Negative Nancy.
I need someone who knows how to deal with real problems. I need a specialist of some sort. I wish I knew how to find one. They've got to exist.