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Rebuilding life after therapy

Even weeks after leaving that final session with my psychologist, I am still not sure what hit me. That session was so grotesque… the way she said she’d been speaking with colleagues about me and they all agreed that she should stop seeing me… the way she brought up all the times I’d been difficult during my private hospital stays to prove that I was indeed too “unstable” to work with. Apparently pulling a third person into the dynamic is a documented strategy used by “selfish individuals” to “comfort and protect their egos”, and “reinforce their sense of rightness or superiority”. I was left feeling ganged up on. All I had left to say to my psychologist as I left was “fuck you”. All I have left to say now is this quote by Booker T. Washington.

candle quote

Continue reading “Rebuilding life after therapy” →

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Fawn

“But I know the difference
Between myself and my reflection
I just can’t help but to wonder
Which of us do you love?”

– Evanescence, “Breathe No More”

I often get told that I am easy to talk with. Strangers tell me all about their dark family secrets. They tell me I am a very nice person and I make them comfortable. But the truth is I don’t really know if it’s “me” they like, or a version of me created through trauma. Pete Walker talks about the “Four Fs”. When we cannot fight or flee, sometimes we freeze and sometimes we fawn, placating people by becoming who they want us to be to avoid further abuse. I wear a smile plastered to my face and I serenade people, ironically making them feel at ease when I am anything but. I am like a duck that seems calm but is furiously paddling away beneath the surface. Continue reading “Fawn” →

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Depression and attachment disorder

Depression has got me tight in its clasp, squeezing all the life out of me. It’s been twelve years of this now with little reprieve. I want to break down and cry. Everything often feels meaningless. My house looks like a bomb’s gone off in it, stuff all over the tables and benches, and unopened parcels, unpacked bags from all my hospital stays and piles of clothes everywhere. I used to find joy in finding and buying unusual clothing, but I’ve even lost interest in this since my psychologist left me. I can’t remember the last time I cleaned my car (there was even a cockroach in it a little while back but I still don’t think it was enough to get me to clean it). I don’t bother to brush my hair and showering is a huge effort as well. I might have a home cooked meal once in a blue moon. I’ve been taking dexamphetamine hoping it will pick me up a bit so I can enjoy going out and seeing people. I saw my mum today, and felt ok for about an hour, then started to get a headache and my depression took hold again. My face is flat, but a lot is going on behind it. I sat in the car and watched two women about my age waiting for coffee at the coffee van. One of them reminded me of my psychologist because of her build. She rested her head on the other’s shoulder, and the other woman rubbed her back. I felt a wave of sadness come over me. My life is completely bare of this kind of affection and care, and while I long for it, I also hate it. I am too numb to feel anything. Continue reading “Depression and attachment disorder” →

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Sad

It is not an easy night. It is 4AM and my grief is keeping me up like a little child. In fact, I believe it literally is a little child. My psychologist introduced me to Internal Family Systems and the idea that we have different “parts”. Within me are parts stuck at different ages. I didn’t always interact with my psychologist as a 31-year-old adult. I attached to her like a child attaches herself to a mother. Sometimes my young part(s) would not only hijack my emotions but they would hijack my behaviour. There was one session I spent on the floor playing with the toys in her office. I put some of her little soft animals in her plastic expandable ball (there is one for sale on Ebay here for reference) and rolled them around. I built block towers out of dominos, and then balanced my psychologist’s little toy hedgehog on top, very impressed that it did not collapse. My psychologist had two crochet otters called “Harry” and “Ginny”. One day when she took leave she let me keep one of them. She kept “Harry” and said she would carry him in her handbag wherever she went so that she wouldn’t forget me. They were like friendship charms. She said it was normally what she’d do for her children, but she trusted me and thought it might help. It did help. I kept “Ginny” by my bed and she was of great comfort, so much so that I had trouble relinquishing her when my psychologist returned. I gave “Ginny” back to her crying and then left abruptly. Continue reading “Sad” →

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