I want Sara. I want Sara really really badly. And I tried to call her but she didn't pick up... The person that I need to talk with, to actually resolve it, is Dr. R, but he didn't return my message, and just now when I abandoned what felt like my last shred of dignity and paiged him, I was told that he'd left word with the exchange that he'd get back to all patients tomorrow. I only half-believe it. I don't really believe anything he says - even by messenger - right now. I felt so manipulated this afternoon, and I don't know how to convince myself he isn't manipulating me now. That's actually why I called him. I couldn't know for sure the reason that he wasn't calling me, and so I paiged him just to keep from getting hurt and angry over that, too. Because once he's manipulating me around one thing, how do I know that everything isn't calculated and chosen "for my own good"? For the record - manipulation that's supposedly in a person's best interest is still manipulation. I thought he told me that. I thought he agreed with that. I don't know what the hell happened today, and I just wanted some sort of band-aid to get me through the weekend. I felt like an idiot calling because I felt like I was saying I wasn't capable of taking care of myself (the whole "emergency" thing.) And I am. But by not calling, I felt like I was having to prove that I'm capable of doing this on my own, and that's ridiculous because we both fucking know that. We both know that I can make it through two rotten days, even left to my own devices. I'm just so hurt and so angry, and I wanted to tell him that and have him respond, instead of just stewing. But apparently I'm stew. And he doesn't have the best promise-to-call / actual call ratio in the world. So will I hear from him tomorrow? Only Sunday knows.
It's Dave, I think. Really. It's fucking Dave. Dave did such awful things sometimes... he'd make up his mind, and he'd take all the power away, all the discussion away. A lot of shitty doctors do that just because they're arrogant, but Dave did it because he thought he knew best - because it worked. Look at me. I'm the living proof that it works. But it's a matter of end and means and ... with the doc today, I just... I really think now that it "triggered" (so fucking tired of that word...you know what that word really means? it means time doesn't actually exist, and something happened today to make it November 2001 so far as I'm concerned) the whole forced-to-leave-Rogers thing. that was the biggest one. the biggest Dave-puts-his-foot-down, and I'm powerless. and the doctor - the "good" doctor! the doctor who knows why what happened isn't ok, and who doesn't do those sorts of things, who promised - did that today. He knew best and he took all the power away. My power. My voice. I trust him because he listens to me, and he quit listening. He quit listening and started "commanding" - until it turned into this, "Either you agree with me and do as I say or you don't want to get better - you're throwing it away" bullshit. And I'm clueless. He knows so much about me; I can't imagine that he doesn't understand what he's doing. The message I left on his voicemail started with that statement: my first response was, "he doesn't get it" (and that was painful because I need *someone* to, and he's been that someone) - but then I realized that he does get it... he does know how painful it is for me to be alone with this, to feel like I don't even have him on my side, and he did it anyway. And that's where it really starts to burn.
We talked about the needing him part, so I know he knows that much. He said this was where he held the bag and gave me room to punch, and I told him I didn't want space to punch; I wanted to not be alone while I'm this scared. So that much he knows he was doing: leaving me when I was terrified, when I asked him to stay. And we're supposed to be partners; he's not supposed to make decisions without me. He's supposed to trust me, too; that's how it's worked.
So...what happened...basically was this. Around one-thirty, I was so exhausted from being out last night and not sleeping this morning that I almost cancelled the spucking appointment. I didn't have a lot to say, the next one's only two days later, and I figured what the hell. But instead, I got out of bed (just in time to not fall asleep), killed the remaining time, and went. And for most of it things went really well. He asked me something about what we'd do today, and I told him how the past few days hadn't been very eventful; I mentioned dealing with the depression around not getting out... and how it's hard for me to not understand what's behind it, to not dig out the root and do something about it, the way I can do with other facets of this illness. He asked me if I wanted him to give me an idea of what he thought might be the case. That sounded a little scary, but I consented, and then he got out a pad of paper and started drawing diagrams. The first thing we talked about was something we've discussed before: three facets of biological experience - novelty seeking, harm avoidance, and human proximity seeking - and what sort of environments can be created based on the relative intensity of each part. That felt fine - it was simple, general, and a lot of what we've already established: I have a mid-range pull toward novelty, a rather-high-but-no-longer-through-the-roof instinct for harm avoidance, and a high push toward relationships. And the ambivalence behind my depression right now is based on those needs for novelty and especially for relationships that aren't getting met because I'm too busy staying safe inside my apartment. Any of this sound new? No. Not really.
So then we started discussing experience because obviously, if we need something that we can alter, something we can change, and my instincts aren't going to change at my request. We listed some of the "legends" that I've had modeled for me, by my parents, all the things I was taught to believe that don't serve me so well. By the time we were done with that, I felt like a really rotten daughter. He told me that my parents would agree with this, would agree that when it came to individuation they really dropped the ball, even though they did a lot of other really good things for me. And he told me that the last part of this one perspective (obviously, there are about a billion sides and perspectives to try on) was those forces that are active now. In terms of understanding this, he said, our goal could be to look at the legends, see which of them are still in operation, which of them have been knocked apart by other experiences/ replaced by other beliefs and work to dismantle the ones that were still inhibiting progress. This all sounded good to me. It makes sense; I had some specifics...we had a plan of action. I only felt uncomfortable from listing all these bad things my parents taught me, and then a little nervous at the idea of really starting to work at this.
And then at the bottom of the page he wrote committment and goal. He told me I need to set a goal and commit to it. It doesn't have to be an outrageous goal - total interaction within one month, etc - but, as he so succintly stated, "Goal and committment by Monday." Commitment? In two days? He's told me over and over again that I can do this because once I commit to something, I make it happen; that's my pattern. I don't even need to set steps most times because once I decide I want it, I make it work. But he's lost it if he thinks *those* commitments were made on any sort of schedule or because someone else wanted me to make them. How many times did I verbally commit to eat before I actually did it? The commitments work because I make them once I trust it, once I know it's safe. And I don't know it's safe yet. I'm not talking about 100% here; I'm talking, I don't know that it's safe enough to take the risk. And he totally blew past that. He was a real ass, and I can't explain how much that hurt.
I said, "I can't do it" - and I can't do it means two things. Number one, I am very, very scared - as I was when I started eating, as I was when I started school again - that I'm not capable of succeeding at this. Number two, "I can't do it" means I can't agree to it; I have reservations that we haven't addressed. I can't do it yet. So, I said, "I can't do it," and he said, "of course you can." I was like, remember me? The person we're talking about? Can I please at least have a moment to explain to you what's going through my head before you dismiss it and return to your own brilliant plan? Is that too much to ask? Of course you can. What the fuck is that? I told him I couldn't do it, and he said something very accurate about how I've believed that in the past and it's turned out to be very far from the case, and I need to tell myself that how I feel isn't a good gauge of what's really possible. He said, "Do you think I'm lying?" and I said, "Does it matter?" - and he said, "Oh, no. You're not even allowed to ask that question." Neurolinguistic laws and such. Part of me responds well to that because it's about taking care of me, and I've done all sorts of neurolinguistic reprogramming in my own head, writing, talk... But the fact that I'm not "allowed" to say something? That's him making rules I have to follow. That's he has the power and I have the assignment - and this hasn't worked that way. I'm not saying we've been peers or something, but nothing is helped by him being above me. I need to be treated like I have power because I do- because this is my life. I need to be treated like I have some understanding of this because I do. And I need to take all this anger and this fight and use it against the phobias that are fucking my life up - not to defy a doctor who's decided three years into working to use completely different methods.
I tried to explain. I was crying; the last time I remember hurting that badly - and I know there's been a time since then - but the one I remember was the day that he told me he needed a favor from me. He'd talked with my parents, and he needed me to go back to school. Into the building, into the classrooms, school. I was so terrified and so upset, and I couldn't even communicate properly... When he saw how scared I was we talked some more and ended up with some deal like I would start off with only a couple of classes, or only afternoons or something... and that I'd call his voicemail every night and let him know how it was going. But I was still a complete wreck; it was so wrong... and I couldn't do it. I ended up telling Harriet, and she was so upset not to have been consulted that there was a mini-power-war and I ended up homebound, thank Godd. and if I haven't completely lost my mind, the doctor has told me since then that I didn't need to go back, that it's good I didn't go back, that he didn't understand at the time what the situation was, entirely. I needed to get out of my parents' presence, I needed other people and other experiences, and that's what he was trying to do. but it was the same sort of deal. I was about to get really, really hurt (like when I had to leave Rogers) and I couldn't get anyone to hear me, to listen, to stop it from happening.
And that was today, too. I tried to explain it; I noticed that I started crying really hard every time he mentioned getting to the other side of this, getting to the point where I was "past" this... and I told him that I didn't want to get past it. He said I was on the last leg of this difficult, painful part of my life, and I told him I didn't want to be on the last leg. It was so hard to say that, to admit that - and he knows it... We've talked before about the fear I have of getting better. But when I said, I don't want to be on the last leg, he said, "You don't want to be on the last leg of this painful part of your life?!" - like it was crazy. Like I was just saying it randomly, like no one would feel that way. When he knows I do! Partially. I mean, he's the one who explained to me that as much as I feel compelled to beat this, there's another part of me that's afraid to... I'm afraid I'll fail, and I'm really afraid I'll succeed. And I told him that. I told him that I think about the idea that I won't ever have a life, and I get really upset, and I think about having a life, and I get terrified. I told him that! But it's like nothing got through, nothing mattered.
And then we stood up, and he went to open the door. I stepped back from it because I was starting to sob again, and said something about taking a minute "to collect myself" ... and I honestly wanted to take some pointy words and smack him hard. Collect myself? Is he completely clueless as to what was going on, what I was feeling, what hell he'd unleashed on me? Fuck collecting myself. I said, "Why are you doing this?" and he said, "Because you need me to."
Hello, condescending. Here's the thing. I believe that I do. I believe that he's right. I believe that once I make the decision to do this, I will feel better, and having committed to it, I will make it happen. I believe that my feelings are giving me misinformation; I believe that he has real reason to believe I can do this and real knowledge of how to help me. Does that sound defiant? Does that sound like we couldn't have come to a place of mutual understanding and chosen our direction from there? Does that sound like I was getting in my own way? I just wanted to be honest with him; I just wanted to tell him what I was afraid of, talk about that, deal with that, so I could make this commitment for real (and that doesn't require getting rid of the fears, but it does require acknowledging them - challenging them - something more than "what do you mean you don't want to be well!") I'm not unwilling. It's not anywhere near as black-and-white as it's ended up looking: either I come in Monday committed or I don't really want to do the work; I don't really want to get well. I'm willing. And I'm going to end up making that committment. We all know that. I'm not going to give up after three years, even if I think it's impossible; I'm not. So, what exactly, was the point of doing it this way? Of hurting me beyond recognition, of making me feel like a completely incompetant child, of overlooking my reservations around the progress I could potentially make? Why was that necessary? Now, it's like - I can go in Monday, and I can talk to him... and maybe, I can truthfully say to him, "I commit to do this." But it's marred. It's fucked up now. Because he didn't have to use this tactic - this awful, awful tactic... Dave's method... and Harriet's meanness - for me to step up. If he'd given me just a little while longer, if he'd just let me talk about the fact that if I get better I'm giving up Rogers and therapy the only things that have ever been consistent for me, the only good I have concrete reason to believe in, to trust, and I don't really believe that I'm going to stop needing them. I just know I'm going to stop having them. And if this is the way he works, how do I know that a month or two or six down the line, he isn't going to say that I need to stop, the same way he's saying now I need to commit? That we're done or we will be in two weeks or whatever. That it's over the way Rogers was over.
From where I'm sitting - he knows enough to understand how this will hurt me, he knows enough to trust I could get to the goal without being hurt - and he did it anyway. And now I get to spent the night or the weekend or who knows how long wondering if this is like school, if this is one of those "empathic failures" or if I'm right - he really does understand all of what I've said here - and he's just choosing to squash me for my own good.
I don't want to look at him the way I look at Dave. He's capable of getting things done in ways that are as helpful as the results, or at the very least neutral... so that the pain is the pain of the problem and not something inflicted on top of that. But today he has no ears. I don't get it. I don't understand how he could do this. "For me." I know he thinks it's for my benefit. I'll believe it is when I'm actually being listened to, when he's treating me like a person again and not an incompetant. When he'll let me tell him why I'm fucking afraid and when I'm committed. When he'll understand that this was wrong, or at least respect that I believe that enough to apologize...
I hate what's unresolved. I hate it the most when I'm not sure it can be resolved. When I'm not sure he'll listen, we'll work it out, he'll trust me, I'll trust him again. The only example I have of a therapist who can do that is him. Dave, Harriet... they're all forever right. ...I still want Sara. And all things being equal, I wouldn't mind Stacy right now either.
~me