I have been to this “chat” for 3 times now. I don’t call it therapy because there is not anything left to say. Life has progressed and I have lived it. I am there to deal with the inability to deal with mostly life in general and am losing time. I have two daughters in their 20’s and a wonderful husband.
Part of this “chat” process is to show a trust relationship type thing with said “enemy”. I don’t know what fool would come into an office for trauma treatment and just trust openly with “enemy”. But this is what they expect, at least that is the impression I get at $135.00 and hour. I’m no fool. In fact yesterday I did mention this – finally. Listening to 20 minutes of gibberish of the same crap I’ve listened to countless times before – ” You are safe here……”. I have sat just being nice and waiting for my time to trickle down and to get the hell out.
I like the question ” Is there anything you would like to ask?” I go completely blank. I have a lot of questions. Funny how that works. They are nice and polite – I am a nice person. I tell Enemy that I for some reason I cannot remember the questions. He doesn’t seem surprised. Dead air for another 2 minutes or so. Of course today I know I should have said “Yes – Can I get the hell out of here?” ” Why the fuck am I here?” ” Do you know you irritate the shit out of me?”
But I sit with my legs crossed agonizing how to get out of this predicament. I want to make this work, but am overwhelmed. Bad dreams, warnings not to talk, losing weight, scared to even come in, things he cannot possibly know. Yet I tell him. The weight issue he will not be able to track. Men . Why do I say anything? I don’t know if he is like all the others. My last “Enemy” was good. It just got to the most difficult part and my husband got a wonderful job opportunity and we moved out of state. The others – burned out therapists, mental health employees I saw throughout the years were label happy and dismissive at best. I was NEVER a pysch. junkie. I hated them, but wanted to figure out what was going on that made me so unpredictable. It’s difficult to have a career or establish relationships. The only thing I had and have going for me is, is that I am very creative, have the Bipolar disorder and all people who know me say I am eccentric. But if you add this to being a perfectionist, some how it is a dangerous mix. I don’t know how or when this became a negative, but there was apparently a major “trigger”. “Trigger” is a psych. word meaning something from the past attached with feelings found its’ way into the present when something with the same type of incident happened with the same emotion. A Vietnam vet who hears a car backfire, hits the ground, thinking it’s a gun shooting. That sort of thing. Trauma from childhood is a little tricky. Blah, blah, blah.
Life thus far has been good.