I called a therapist about two weeks ago, thinking that maybe it would make sense to see someone before I’m in a total crisis. Two weeks later, her secretary called me back. The therapist had been out of town. I probably should have known then that this was not the right person for me to see, but I proceeded to make an appointment. Today I went to her office in the rain, and inside was blaring golden oldies music songs like “It’s a Wonderful World”, but covered by someone like Frank Sinatra–no receptionist, and a small sign that said “If xxxx is late, she apologizes. The most important patient is the one who is with her now.” Great. I read her stupid Oprah magazines (I always marvel over how many times Oprah can plaster herself on the front of her own magazines without thinking that perhaps the cover should feature someone else), waited for 15 minutes and left. I don’t want to waste any of my precious covered mental health care appointments on a therapist who doesn’t think I’m as important as the patient who is “with her now”.
Archive for the 'Therapy' Category
My insurance company (which is actually through COBRA–just another one of my worries) won’t pay for phone sessions with my old therapist, so I’m looking for a local one. I called a couple and two of their numbers were out of service, and left a message for the third one. No word back today.
What I hate about every therapist I’ve ever been to is that they never tell me anything I don’t already know.
“All you can do is your best”, my most recent therapist said to me.
“My best isn’t good enough,” I replied.
“Did you hear what you just said? You said your best isn’t good enough!” she laughed in incredulity.
“Yeah, I heard what I said. My best isn’t good enough.”
“You’re too hard on yourself.” How many times have I heard that?
“It can take years to change your beliefs. Some beliefs cannot be changed,” said a psychiatrist to me recently. “Like if I tried to convince you to change your religion–you probably wouldn’t–maybe even couldn’t do it, right?” Right. So what makes me think that talking every week to someone who doesn’t know me is going to somehow help me. Therapists that I’ve seen have varied from blaming my parents for my problems (which never makes me feel any better, honestly) to recommending workbooks, to telling me I need to take more time to myself–none of it has helped. Time to myself? What would that look like? When I spend time alone, all I do is worry about my future. I have no money to take a yoga or pilates class. I feel guilty spending time away from my kids. With me not working at home with my husband now, I berate myself over quitting my job. Time to myself is the worst.