Today is therapy day, which I am a fan of a solid 99% of the time. That 1% is usually a wandering, crabby, (frankly) pissy sort of day… and with the weather so nice today I don’t think I could be too crabby if my life depended on it!
My therapist is working on an internship, she just finished her degree -which is why her services have been so readily available to me. She is less experienced, which means she is something of a discount therapist (I think they keep those in the bin at Walmart behind the discount dvd bins) but her lack of field experience has not been an issue for our relationship.
For the most part.
And perhaps part of me likes the idea that I am teaching her something while she is teaching me. A swap, if you will, of screwed up information.
The trouble with this set up is that her internship ends in August, which means we only have a handful of (maybe 4?) appointments left. I readily agreed to this plan when I started going to the clinic, but now that I am almost upon the end of this relationship I find myself very sorry to see her go.
My relationships with medical professionals (and therapists) has been spotty at best. My income and insurance situation (i.e. none, right now anyway) has fluctuated wildly in the last 10 years, which has not provided me any stability in the realm of doctors or therapists I’ve seen. I have been on a series of at least 4 or 5 different insurance plans, while phasing in and out of those plans I’ve had nothing. On top of that, I have a pretty significant distrust of mental health providers (and all doctors, really) that has stemmed out of various advice from bad ones, and my own (admittedly) irrational paranoia after being abused by my caretakers in a mental health facility at the age of 17.
It has taken me an exceptionally long time to realize that not everyone is going to attack me for no apparent reason, but I spent years showing up to doctors or therapist offices with vague inclinations that they didn’t know what they were talking about, or that they didn’t have my best interest at heart, or that they really just didn’t get me at all. Of course, I didn’t give them a chance to know me, so I was setting myself up for failure in that department, but my tally of doctor or therapist one night stand sorts of visits is off the charts. For whatever reason. For every reason. Etc.
So this relationship I have currently with my therapist is one for the record books. I don’t recall entirely when I began seeing her (I was in a pretty wicked place at the time, I don’t remember most of last year due to the ultra-intense depressive episode I had) but there was a point where I said,
“you know, I’ve made it past the hump. The point where I’ve always quit therapy, and I am amazed at how different this day feels as opposed to day one.”
I will really be bummed to see her go, mostly because the notion of having to familiarize yet another person with the goings-on of my life sounds absolutely exhausting. I find it agonizing sitting across from someone who has a completely empty concept of me that I have control of pouring things into. I have a knack for getting a little creative with the pouring, if you know what I mean… and I have a hard time not creating a mold for a character instead of me. It isn’t that I want to hide the truth, I just find it too much fun to create fiction.
I am hoping I will find some wisdom about this when I get there today, something about re-creating this kind of relationship with a therapist. I know it is fairly straightforward, but my mind wanders sometimes… and unless one of us is on track, I have trouble getting over that hump.