Talking it out

I have been to exactly 6 sessions of therapy now. Three with the initial guy and three with the woman who had been pushing the meds.

I try to rationalize not going every time.

I still think most therapists are self absorbed douche-lords (sorry to my friends and family in this profession) and I sometimes can’t help but think I could do a much better job at it which leads to bitter thoughts on profession choice which leads to even more bitter thoughts on how I didn’t really have a choice to choose a profession.

I’m not sure if it is helpful but I did have a sort of mini revelation the other day when meeting with the woman therapist. The man was always talking about himself, but she is a tiny bit more contemplative and encouraging. I’m not the kind to open up easily.

I Didn’t Care for the Way She Started Our Session

“So, shall we talk about some of your issues?”

Screw you lady. What issues? You are going to have to narrow it down a bit.

I could tell she didn’t remember me at all and had no idea what my issues even were. For a brief second I entertained telling her I had cut back on stealing from department stores and had slowed way down on my illegal drug smuggling activities and midget porn. She might not have realized I was being sarcastic though so I held off.

She wasn’t getting much out of me so she started talking meds.

She said she was going to put me on Zoloft and I got a little pissed. The last time I saw her she told me she would be me on a reaction list so that nobody would prescribe the SSRIs anymore because they have an adverse effect on me. I told her in detail what they do to me and even shared what I wrote on this site with her about my Zoloft/Prozac experience. I almost agreed though just to see if she really had put me on a reaction list and to see if she was honestly going to try to push it on me again. That would have been all the ammunition I needed to never return.

I asked her why they hadn’t found a way to put alcohol into a pill form and prescribe that because if I have a couple of drinks when I am feeling anxious I’m good. I just need to force myself to stop at a couple.

She didn’t think it was funny.

Then we just sat in silence for a bit.

I told her she was making me uncomfortable. She wanted to know why. I told her I actually felt threatened and was getting anxious. She apologized but still didn’t know why. I didn’t know why. I kept thinking of bullshit reasons but knew none of them were accurate. If I’m going to endure this torture I want to actually attempt to figure things out. I’m not in it for the entertainment value.

Then I Kind of Realized What It Was

Usually whenever someone pays undivided attention to me there is malicious intent behind the attention. Certainly more so as a child but even as an adult. There is frequently an agenda whenever anyone is kind or listens or pays too much to me in any way. At least I feel this way because of past experiences. It freaked me out and I told her so. Then she tried filling up the silence like the other guy. It was annoying but at least I didn’t feel like I was about to be attacked or cemented into a wall.

I wish there was a better solution. This is going to be a long, torturous road.



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