hsphaven

I’m not sure at what point in our relationship it happened, but my whole world started to revolve around my psychologist. I’d buy new clothes and think “this will be nice to wear to my appointment”. That day she dropped the news she didn’t want to see me anymore I had gone to the optometrist to get new glasses which I mainly wanted to wear to our appointments. I have had trouble seeing her, both literally and figuratively. I didn’t know how much danger I was in. I didn’t know that she was a cunning wolf in disguise. Now I see her clearly, and I can’t believe I got sucked into the mirage once again. I blast Evanescence as I type this post.

“She never was and never will be. You don’t know how you’ve betrayed me. And somehow you’ve got everyone fooled.”

How can I trust myself and my judgement of people when I was so wrong about her? How could I not see through her façade? Even after a string of equally psychopathic mental health professionals, I was still blind. I thought that I had finally found “the one”.

“It never was and never will be. You’re not real and you can’t save me.”

She held my hand but it meant nothing. Everything was a performance. I was alone all along.

I do have another therapist who seems very good (he even called me over the weekend on his way out to dinner), but that’s how they all seem in the beginning. I am cancelling my appointments, and have never replied to my disability worker when he texted me to check in with me (he visited me in hospital but had to leave right when I was in the middle of a screaming episode). While I doubt he’s predatory like the therapists I’ve encountered, our relationship is fragile. It is dependent on him continuing to work. Anything can happen that can end our relationship. I kind of expect him to tell me he can’t see me anymore next, just like the previous disability worker. I am now suspicious when people are super kind to me. I think it’s too good to be true, and smell tragedy just upon the horizon. I am like Astrid in White Oleander. After losing Claire, the social worker offers Astrid another good home, but she’s over it. She’s over getting close to people and then having them leave. She’s over getting her hopes up only to have them crushed. She chooses a foster mother who is clearly awful right from the beginning so there is no more deception and disappointment.

As I lose weight I think about the old clothes I liked which I might be able to fit into again. But then I think what’s the point, I never go out. My psychologist was the only person I saw most weeks. It is a painful feeling. Maybe I need to dress up for myself to make myself feel good. I picked up my native American-style head dress today from my mum’s house and I’m going to wear it in the forest. I need some time to find myself again after losing myself to my psychologist. And I need to surround myself with equals and people who believe me when I say I have been abused. Narcissistic and emotional abuse is very hard to explain to people, and even more difficult to get justice for. My doctor in hospital used the BPD label to discount my abuse. She saw it as just BPD rage and splitting, that the problem was with me not my psychologist. She didn’t believe my psychologist was a psychopath. My psychologist said I lash out as a defense mechanism, never stopping to think that maybe that person deserved it. As Kalen Dion said, someone begging for their humanity to be acknowledged can sound an awful lot like rage. And on that point I will finish this post.