on my own
here i am in the cafe.
mondays i tend to come to the cafe after my appointments with my therapist. because, if you haven’t forgotten, i’m crazy.
right now i’m a mix of crazy, detached and hurt.
i guess my therapist has dumped me. i don’t think i’ve ever had this happen, so i’m not sure how to process it just yet. plus i’m in one of my personalities that is sort of distant anyway, a girl who prefers to be sailing and traveling across the world to discussing the finer details of emotions and day to day bothersome tasks. this girl would rather be walking through a cathedral in Rome, admiring its architecture, instead of talking to a therapist who doesn’t seem particularly interested in whether or not the client gets better or perhaps gets hit by a car on the way home.
oh, heck, maybe i’m being unfair. the truth is, i don’t have insurance. and i’m flat broke. my therapist USED to get paid by me, but for a long time now she’s been seeing me on an exchange system, where we swap goods. she therapizes me and i bring goodies to her that she passes on to the kids she therapizes. this has worked ok, and she has told me a number of times how this really helps her clients. but perhaps she can’t afford to see me anymore, because times are rough all over.
and if that were the case, the only issue, then i would understand. if she had said to me, “hey crazy lady. i can’t afford to see you like this anymore, you have to at least pay this much money”, well then at least i would have known that i had to find the money or go without the help. but this was kind of sudden. this was kind of like, “well what do you want to talk about today?”
but really, i’m the other part of the equation here. i can understand that she may not have been able to handle me anymore. for the first seven months of our therapeutic relationship, i struggled with my diagnosis, although i’m the one that brought it to the table in the first place, suspecting it to be true. maybe it was easy to see me in the beginning, and now as i’m trying to work through this situation more extensively, maybe it is just beyond her ability. she isn’t trained in dealing with Multiples. MPD isn’t her speciality. maybe it’s more challenging for her than i had realized.
but from my perspective, it feels a lot like being thrown out. it feels like she’s doing spring cleaning, and just doesn’t want to look at this ratty old sweater anymore, so out it goes. because she didn’t even really seem interested in helping me try to find another therapist. not that i can’t find one myself, but really, how many therapists out there specialize in this field, or at least know how to treat me, and would do it for little money, or some sort of barter system? i guess not many.
so here i am, alone again.
i’ve never really had much luck with therapists, because i’ve always been able to convince them i’m fine when i’m really not, and that i’m somewhat normal, when i think that is probably not the case either. and this one seemed to see through that, and i trusted her, and care about her. so to have her “set me free” so easily, with hardly a discussion about it, well i guess it makes me feel emotional.
well ok, it doesn’t make ME feel emotional. i’m the one that would rather be traveling through Basil right now, remember? i’m too delighted by the weather and the parks and the freedom that comes with summer to bother to get emotional about my therapist jilting me.
but someone will be upset eventually. someone will go home and cry, and feel as though she is unloved, and think that she is too difficult for anyone in the world to care for, except her long-suffering sister. and then that person will go on a freak-out-bender, and think of suicide, and pills, and being a dramatic poet who tries to bake her brains like they are blueberry muffins, or maybe follow something shiny into the pool of life, never to return. and others in there will feel bad, and naughty, or abandoned, or maybe even pissed off.
but in the meantime, i guess i should enjoy the weather while i’m sane enough – and calm enough – to appreciate it.
Posted on May 24, 2010, in biographical, MPD and tagged Basil, cathedrals, craziness, depression, DID, Dissociative Identity Disorder, insanity, jilted, life, MPD, suicide, therapy, tragic endings. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.