I've been away from this blog for a really long time. I can't even count the number of times I've wanted to come and write something - if for no other reason than to just try to process things - but every time I'm sitting in front of a blank screen, my brain seems to take that emptiness as a suggestion. Words fall out, in no particular order and with no real semblance of coherence.
"I can't post that. I'll sound stupid and pathetic."
I mean, that's not an inaccurate assessment or anything, but honestly this blog isn't really for anyone else. Sure, other people can read it. Sure, I sometimes share posts. But in the end, this blog is for me. This blog is my therapy. It's really the only mental health care I have left.
It's not like I'm entirely qualified to provide my own therapy, but one thing I've realized lately is that simply being a therapist by profession doesn't really make a person qualified to provide me with therapy either.
I don't want to downplay how much therapy with someone who was genuinely invested in my well-being helped me make strides at a time in my life when I really needed it, but she was by far the exception and not the rule.
I had a therapist blame me for my abusive marriage because I clearly wasn't doing enough to keep my ex happy (despite the fact that in my dysfunction, I had in fact tried all of her suggestions) and consistently push me to remain in the marriage, despite all of the abuse.
One couldn't even manage to make it to our appointments on time despite being the first appointment of the day. Not just the occasional "oops, I'm running late." No, this was damn near every single appointment. It's disrespectful to begin with, but when you're charging my insurance $270 for an hour long therapy session and you consistently miss the first 10-15 minutes, that's a lot of freaking money. That works out to $4.50/minute, which means that $45 - $67.50 were being flushed down the toilet every time she was late. I'm a math nerd...I calculate that sort of thing.
And my most recent attempt at therapy had me paired with the most unsubtle clock watcher on the planet who thinks that putting an ice pack on my neck and huffing essential oils will certainly cure my obnoxiously long list of mental "challenges." Seriously, if huffing essential oils and throwing and ice pack on my neck was all it took to magically cure all that ails me, that'd be awesome. It'd be weird, but it'd be awesome.
I had a therapist blame me for my abusive marriage because I clearly wasn't doing enough to keep my ex happy (despite the fact that in my dysfunction, I had in fact tried all of her suggestions) and consistently push me to remain in the marriage, despite all of the abuse.
One couldn't even manage to make it to our appointments on time despite being the first appointment of the day. Not just the occasional "oops, I'm running late." No, this was damn near every single appointment. It's disrespectful to begin with, but when you're charging my insurance $270 for an hour long therapy session and you consistently miss the first 10-15 minutes, that's a lot of freaking money. That works out to $4.50/minute, which means that $45 - $67.50 were being flushed down the toilet every time she was late. I'm a math nerd...I calculate that sort of thing.
And my most recent attempt at therapy had me paired with the most unsubtle clock watcher on the planet who thinks that putting an ice pack on my neck and huffing essential oils will certainly cure my obnoxiously long list of mental "challenges." Seriously, if huffing essential oils and throwing and ice pack on my neck was all it took to magically cure all that ails me, that'd be awesome. It'd be weird, but it'd be awesome.
Sometimes these blog posts are just humorous musings about life. But sometimes that's what therapy is about - just taking things one day at a time and trying to find things along the way that make you smile. Or just feeling free to write about whatever it is I'm trying to process that day. As my own therapist, I feel like it's my job to sort this shit out. After all, it'd be pretty awkward if I had to fire myself for gross incompetence...
And when it comes to my "team" of medical "professionals," I'm now completely convinced that they are neither a team, nor are they professional. I used to operate under the delusion that doctors wanted to help. I'm over that now - and if that sounds defeatist, that's because I feel completely defeated. I've spent so many years trying to give doctors the benefit of the doubt, convincing myself to believe the best in people, despite the fact that this sort of thinking is what had me trapped for years in an abusive marriage.
Still, I've always tried to believe the best in people...that people are inherently good...because I personally can't fathom being such a callous asshole, surely other people aren't trying to be callous assholes. Sadly, though, that seems to be a common life goal. The one thing I've gained from the past few years of mental health "care" is a growing distrust of people in the profession. I honestly don't trust either my psychiatrist or therapist enough to actually be honest with them.
Still, I've always tried to believe the best in people...that people are inherently good...because I personally can't fathom being such a callous asshole, surely other people aren't trying to be callous assholes. Sadly, though, that seems to be a common life goal. The one thing I've gained from the past few years of mental health "care" is a growing distrust of people in the profession. I honestly don't trust either my psychiatrist or therapist enough to actually be honest with them.
So yeah, I'm sure there are people out there who will think I sound stupid and pathetic. Maybe I am stupid and pathetic. But I honestly don't even care anymore, and I need to stop being so damn apologetic about who I am. It takes too much energy and it's just plain stupid.
So here I am, stupid and pathetic. Take it or leave it.
So here I am, stupid and pathetic. Take it or leave it.
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