I recently broke up with my therapist of 3 1/2 years. Well she doesn’t know it yet, but I’m not going back. For one thing, her office is now way out of the way since we moved. For another, I feel like it has been a waste of my time for over two years. We basically just chat about a few things that are going on in my life and I often run out of things to say and constantly glance at the clock. I’ve been seeing her every 3-4 weeks just to check in and make sure I’m ok. Sometimes I’m not the best judge of how I’m doing and I’m really good at faking it and covering up ally shit. I also tend to be fairly quiet so Chad isn’t always clued in either. I’ve been pretty stable since the spring of 2015 and I am tired of throwing twenty-five dollars away each month so I’ve decided to cut the cord. I need to give her a call and explain. I’m sure she will understand.
I first started seeing a therapist in 2005 when I was 27. She was a hippie that didn’t believe in medication unless it was absolutely necessary. She believed I learned to be depressed by seeing others in my family depressed, said I was an alcoholic and love addict, recommended self-help books along with some crazy bovine liver supplements from her chiropractor and told me to go to Alcoholics Anonymous meetings for support. I was nearly suicidal at the time, thinking of garages I could park my car in and end the pain easily. She dragged up the past during every visit and I left feeling worse than when we started. I basically cried the entire visit. She had me doing mirror work and affirmations to improve my self-esteem. I repeated “I am enough” while staring at myself in the mirror. None of these approaches worked for me. If she were a responsible therapist she would have recommended I see a psychiatrist first. As I look back now, I can see it was very dangerous not to do so.
I saw another therapist in my late twenties for a few visits that thought I had Bipolar Disorder and wanted to me to see a psychiatrist so I could get on a mood stabilizer, specifically Depakote. I can’t remember what happened there, but I don’t think I liked what she had to say and the psychiatrist she wanted me to see was not taking new patients so I missed my opportunity to get my diagnosis earlier. In my early thirties I saw another one for a few months. Again, the visits made me feel worse than I normally did and I didn’t get anything out of it. After the psychotic episode in 2010, I saw a therapist that my nurse practitioner referred me to. She was really aggressive and I was so doped up on an antipsychotic the first visit that she couldn’t get anywhere with me because I could hardly answer her questions. I just kept saying I don’t know. I went back a couple more times and she was really pushing me to work on myself, but I was still recovering from psychosis and not thinking clearly so we didn’t accomplish much.
I decided when I started seeing my most recent therapist that we would not discuss the past and I would not let her try to figure out why I am the way I am. I was upfront about that on my first visit. I wanted to focus on the present. I wanted her to help me determine if my mind was healthy, a monthly check-in to make sure I was on the right track. We both followed that protocol and I found that it was a much better way for me personally. What a freaking relief. I believe I am the way I am because I have a chemical imbalance. I inherited it from my family (I have it on both sides). Digging around in my past trying to find some reason for it is absurd to me. I have no history of trauma or abuse. I was raised by parents who love me and would do anything for me. We had our issues like all families do, but my environment did not trigger this illness. So please for the love of God, don’t try to psychoanalyze me. So I’m closing the book on therapy for now and if things work out they way I have planned, I will not be opening it anytime soon.