Posts Tagged ‘therapy’

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I’ve talked a lot with the Somatic Experiencing Practitioner I see. Even though this kind of practitioner does less talking and more body work, the option to do so hasn’t been around as I’ve been abroad. Every week, we’ve done FaceTime conversations.

I digress. The reason I mention the talking is because one thing under heavy discussion is that I continually overwhelm therapists or other similar practitioners to the point that they will do one of a few things:

1. refer me elsewhere

2. say they don’t know how to help me

3. say they’re not willing to help me

Due to these reasons, I find it very incapacitating at times to begin an opening up process or merely letting anyone in. I don’t actually believe there is an individual out there who can hear it all and take it in-being an active attuned listener who can express true empathy. I am not looking for sympathy-there is a major difference between someone feeling sorry for me and someone who has the ability to step into my shoes almost quite literally. With the SEP, we discussed how some people just don’t have the capacity to handle it all.

You know what? People’s capacities suck! If I have to endure the amount of shit I’ve had to, the least someone in a helping profession can do is not give up on me again. I’m sick of expressing myself and told to stop sharing in a group because even a therapist is overwhelmed at my situation. Most of what I’ve gone through has been an unfortunate series of events that I’ve had no control in (at the time). How I currently react to the past is mostly within my control.

It’s fucking disheartening when people can’t even listen to my story, never mind experience it. After all, I’m not asking them to go experience chronic childhood physical abuse and neglect. I’m not asking them to have endured 20+ traumas as I have. I’m asking them to listen, to be a compassionate human being. Apparently that is even too hard for most people, even the “trained” professionals.

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All who would win joy, must share it; happiness was born a twin.  ~Lord Byron

I’ve always thought I was a twin; every time I mentioned it growing up, my parents would act as though I was being ridiculous and scoff or brush the thought aside. Fortunately, I landed in eating disorder treatment two and a half months ago. The outpatient setting and transitional living home I reside in is validating, more so than other places I’ve journeyed to in the past. It was at this place that I was referred to a somatic therapist about one month ago.

To think, it’s been only one month I’ve been seeing this amazing human being is beyond me. I had yet to cry in front of her though I have two session per week with her. Then, last Friday happened, and last Friday was quite an experience.

Quick note about somatic therapy: it’s when a therapist deals with bodily responses to trauma, and yes, we all hold trauma of some sort, it doesn’t have to be abuse, neglect or torture. The somatic therapist I see incorporates touch as she holds a massage therapist license as well.

The first session with her she didn’t touch me at all, she sensed energetically that my system was not ready to handle it. Gradually, she integrated touch, almost always starting with my kidneys/adrenals.

Last Friday, I mentioned to her that my eating disorder therapist believes I hold my trauma in my throat. I’ve been having many throat issues and have had to resort to a soft diet. We ended up on the topic of babies and suddenly, for the first time in her office, I realized I had to close my eyes. I hadn’t yet closed them in her presence because I never know what will happen if my eyes are closed, my safety feels compromised.

However I closed my eyes and put my hood on. Up to that point, I hadn’t worn a sweatshirt on the table. It is ideal for her to have closest access (without touching) to my skin. She asks me to take it off usually, and I obediently do, but not Friday thankfully. My hoodie is a security blanket and extremely soft.

Upon closing my eyes, I saw a baby. Have you ever gone to a museum where they outline the stages of a baby in-utero and you see a small object about the size of an egg surrounded by amniotic fluid? That’s what I saw. Then I thought to myself, “I thought I was a twin” and instantly I saw two of these fetuses, mirror image of one another.

As though I were looking through a kaleidoscope, the image in my mind remained, along with a slight beating or pulsation as though it was to a heartbeat or someone’s breathing (like the carrier of the babies). I saw the color yellow flood through me and then miniature babies, maybe 8 or 10 were in a kaleidoscope image circulating about in a circle, in various positions. 

The image then returned to the two babies, facing one another. One baby detached from the circle and began drifting off. I began to feel an overwhelming sadness. When the therapist asked me what was going on, I explained to her that the other baby was leaving, saying to me, “I’ll be waiting for you.” It wasn’t in a creepy way, just sincere and matter-of-factually.

Suddenly, there was a bright light and I was surrounded by about four sets of arms over me, and a mask on my face. At this point, the therapist had hand placement; one on my lower neck and one on my chest. My breathing was rapid. I told her I barely felt the presence of her hand on my chest and she began a sort of kneading motion with her knuckles, not harder so much as to bring awareness to my body.

I felt an extreme pressure on my chest, not from her and not from anxiety. It was the sort of pressure one would use to stimulate a baby upon birth (as an EMT, I am aware of this tactic). My breathing continued to be erratic, my left hand was tapping up and down on the table. She took her hand off my back and placed in beneath my left hand. I made no motion towards it. She asked me what I wanted to do with her hand. I said, “instinctively, I want to grasp it”. She asked why I didn’t, to which I replied, “because then that would mean I’m in this world. She said, “You are in this world.” I, as the baby speaking, said, “I made the wrong decision, I want to be with the other baby. She said, repeatedly, “You’re here, you chose to be here. I continued to reply that I didn’t want to be, I made the wrong decision. She asked me to decide if I was ready to have this happen, to be present, to let the other baby go. I wasn’t. Usually, she doesn’t push me into any sort of decisions, this day she did a bit it seemed.

We ended at the point of conflict; my choosing to be in this world though I don’t want to be. I badly want to be with the other baby. Not wanting me to think too much about it, she said to not rationalize what had just happened. I haven’t too much though I’ve thought about it most of the days since. Seeing her today, she said, “Happy 5 days since your birthday”.

A few sessions ago, she mentioned that my nervous system is like an infant’s and to my therapist at the center, she said it’s like a newborn’s. Even if my age progresses, if my emotions are never dealt with accordingly, age will remain inconsistent to my developmental state.

I saw my psychiatrist today, the first person to get intimate with my case, “a little too much” as she said in a joking manner. She said I have to consider my situation as though I’m an orphan. Even though I’ve thought that constantly, and said to a few people, this was the first time someone else brought this to my attention.She spent a lot of time with me, much appreciated.

Today, I arrived slightly late to session because my psychiatry appointment today was delayed, resulting in my delay in arriving to the somatic therapist’s office. She didn’t want to use the table today (where touch often takes place). She asked me to sit with being alone, to feel what it feels like to be alone. An overwhelming emotion flooded my body and a steel gate went down, and I went blank and unable to talk.

This has happened before, not in her presence though. She came over to me and put her hand on me. Later on, she explained to me that my cells froze and that was validating because then it was as if someone else was validating my experience, someone so gifted and knowledgeable and attuned to others’ bodies. Someone who won’t run away and enjoys a “complex” case.

Even though my individual therapist can’t handle me too much right now and is struggling through her own stuff, I’m very grateful she referred me to the somatic therapist. My experiences are finally feeling more real as opposed to surreal, and at least one other human being on this earth cares about me.

Someone cares about you, somewhere, somehow, even when you least expect it.

secret shhh

I wish I wasn’t writing this post. I wish I could focus long enough to do homework; my focus is too muddled. I want to write more than about how fucked up my relationship with my therapist is. I want to be excited for life. Problem is, my emotions get in the way, especially when midnight came last night, as I was saying goodnight to C.

C came over for a while to chill last night, and extremely long story short, I ended up telling her about the situation with me, B and K. She was hurt, she does want answers, as we both do.

Regardless, even if this is explainable (likely by K), I’m not sure I can continue having a relationship with K. I’m not sure if B’s intention is to make me so jealous that I’ll eventually leave and she’ll have K to herself (assuming K is doing only therapeutically relevant activities with B (and therefore charging her for additional time outside of the office).

I can totally see how this would be extremely conflicting and challenging for K. She probably never expected her clients to have interactions with one another, aside from the preexisting one she knew C and I had. By the way, there hadn’t been any sort of problems between K, C, and me. Sometimes C has even allowed K to tell me things they talked about in session. I get it. I also am well-aware not that C’s aware of the situation that this brings a whole entirely additional element of conflict for K and I’d like to think that either she changes her behavior (if she has done inappropriate things again) or I think it makes the most sense to drop her.

I’ve no clue what I’d do without her as a therapist. I’m done starting over, it’s hard to find DBT therapists and even just a therapist I trust. I’m afraid to make the move, and I’m afraid K will and she’ll choose who to keep and who not to. Though it seems obvious she ought to drop the person with whom she has inappropriate interactions with, it also makes sense that she would be the last off her client list.

And again, I’m numb and disconnected from emotion, and another person has to choke down a heck of a lot more information; information I knew would be beneficial for her to know but that would hurt her if she knew. Now she knows, and she too confirms that it’s inappropriate, and especially inappropriate for K to tell B to not say anything.

Secrets amongst therapist and clients that impact other clients are worse than secrets; they’re verbal weapons, the worst kind. One these secrets are exposed, as weapons, they don’t even puncture the skin, they go straight for the gut, the glory and they slash deep. They slash fast and without warning, and they hurt forever.

Fuck fuck fuckity fuck. Tharnks, Rockstar Ronan’s mom Maya for making that an awesome phrase to use, fitting of many situations.

I got off the phone with B, and was finally able to clarify what she had said the other week about a double relationship with K. Well, that was odd, because I found out that her double relationship as she sees it really isn’t a big deal, rather consists of half of the session being therapeutic and the other half catching up on K’s life, talking about life as if they were regular people. However, B brought to my attention that even though K doesn’t want her sharing with anyone (of course B told me- who knows maybe she’s trying to stir up my emotions, evoke a bit of jealousy to feel as though she has something I can’t or don’t have).

When I had asked B about where they’d have lunch, B wasn’t sure but then said house or park. Didn’t K tell me just the other week that it was a bad move to go to B’s house on the day she was fired? Didn’t she regret that? Obviously not, or I guess regrets die quickly.

I watched baby videos today and yesterday. As a baby I had no reactions to when Barbara was touching me, and it makes sense now.

Friday sucked though, First, I wake up to an e-mail that someone at our school died early this morning, cause of death, unknown at this time (I suspect suicide). Then, I go to an intake at an Intensive Outpatient Program (IOP) for eating disorders.

I was first greeted outdoors by an unkempt man, only to be brought into the office and greeted by a lady who was so thin, I could absolutely imagine what her skeleton looked like. Next, the intake coordinator who is also the owner I believe, was totally impersonal and I felt really awkward around him. He put his hand out for me to shake and I REALLY didn’t want to and avoided it, and he kept it out until I shook it, and he shook it far too long and I felt contaminated after the shake that I didn’t want to give in the first place. Even today, it’s giving me the heeby jeebies just thinking about it and I feel dirty. 

I didn’t make eye contact with him. He wanted me to open up immediately about certain things. Here’s how the intake went:

Me: “just because you closed the door and have letters behind your name doesn’t mean I’m going to spill my life to you…. especially the first time we meet.”

Guy was an asshole and asked me to put my phone away even though I wasn’t doing anything on it. I just need to constantly fidget, thank you ADHD

Me: You don’t even know what I’m doing on it.

Asshole creep: What are you doing on it?

Me: That’s not something that’s any of your business. (The guy evidently had a complex and felt the need for power and control, made apparent especially when 2:00 came around and he said he had someone else to see and refused to answer my question.)

Me: So are you going to “allow” me to come here?

Asshole creep: I’m not sure this is the right place for you. I think you need someplace that has a more psychiatric component. I have a 2:00 appointment now.

Me: Really it’s a simple question with a simple answer. You’re judging my case by what  you’re reading on a paper and hearing from me, even though I’m telling you most of my treatments were mistakes and forced upon me as the Identified Patient. So, what are you going to do?

Asshole creep: I’m going to call so and so to see if there’s a more appropriate place for you and then call you. Sorry it didn’t work out (totally unsympathetically).

Me: Oh, well thanks, I’m used to it…  walked out.

Asshole creep deemed my case too complex.  He was bizarre, thought that I need more psychiatric level of care, didn’t look at the big picture like only two people have throughout my various treatments. It takes a special individual.

 

Then I saw K and that was horrible from the get go. I was devoid of emotion. I finally asked her why she didn’t respond to my text earlier this week:

“I’ve tried to do something about disconnection and nothing’s working. I’m really detached and idk why or what to do about it.”

K: I didn’t know what to say. It wasn’t specific enough, I thought “oh, thanks for letting me know”.

I started to get heated, thinking that no one really does understand me and no one ever will. K and I went in circles about how I logically know that I don’t have a family, I read Adam’s text to her (the one when he told me I’m not part of the family) I told her about the student’s passing.

K: How do you feel about all that? (nice, typical therapist response/question-I’m smirking internally)

Me: I don’t feel a thing about it, I don’t feel anything. 

She kept repeating that she doesn’t know how to help me in this way and that, and I kept saying

Me: I need support. 

K: What does that look like?You need to specify

You damn well know B didn’t ask K to have lunches with her. K simply rescued her, and apparently won’t rescue me.

K: What you want is unreasonable and you can’t expect everything to work out the way you want it to and for support to be there the way you want it. It doesn’t exist. There isn’t someone like that to fulfill what you want.

Me: Oh, ok (in sarcastic tone). It seems hypocritical because other people get it, and I just need support.

K: What does that look like?

Me:  I don’t know because I’ve never truly been given it.

K: Well ok, that makes sense. It’s because you don’t let people in.

Me: That’s because when I do let people in, they let me down.

K: That’s because you try to find excuses for why people aren’t good enough for you.

Me: I’m confused because for the longest time I would constantly go back to my family thinking they were good for me and I was the problem and then I finally realized that wasn’t the case and went away from them. 

K: You pick out people’s faults and then shut them out, like it gives you a reason to not connect or something.

Me: That’s not true. I know that my advisor has faults and I still like her. There’s plenty of people who I may have done that to, but not everyone (as she was insinuating).

I kept saying I needed support and was confused because it seems hypocritical to say one thing and do another (as is the case with her and B and how she’s about to have lunch with her everyday, though I didn’t mention it).

So why is K being a rescuer for B and not for me? She’s enabling her behaviors by going to have lunch with her the sicker she becomes.

K: You don’t need to have something drastic happen and be really sick to get the support you need.

Me: That’s not true, apparently I do because when others are, they get it.

K: Harshly, loudly, abruptly, she said, “Is all this about the B situation again?

I went into it. First I started staring, then my right hand began twitching and then I kept trying to fight off the seizure. K tried to get my focus and couldn’t. I knew everything going on, just couldn’t talk.

This was the first Psychogenic non-epileptic seizure (PNES A.K.A. NES)  I’ve had in well over 1.5 years. While trying to fight it off and not being able to talk, I realized that it really does stem from pre-verbal abuse. I couldn’t express myself as a baby, and I couldn’t talk at present moment.

K: Laura, Laura, Laura. If you won’t reply to me, I’m going to have to call someone to pick you up.

She said this a few times, and then grabbed her phone.

I tried to get my neurons reconnecting, anything to indicate that I heard her, and just couldn’t respond.

Well, she proved to me on a different level that getting sick does get one attention.This is not what I intended, this is just what happened for being in a heightened emotional state.

K: I can’t just leave you in this state. I’m going to have to call someone to pick you up.

I thought I knew what she meant, and I tried to get my neurons firing again to say no don’t summon an ambulance. I mean so many reasons revolve around that. I’d pay a butt load of money for something that’s not pre-authorized, and I’d probably know the people on the ambulance since I’ve done EMS work in that area. Plus, hardly any medical professional actually understands PNES.

I find it weird because I experience body sensations I can’t really describe. Speaking as someone who has suffered through long bouts of dissociation (months at a time), I’d say PNES’s are worse because I remember them and I feel a sensation that I can’t control and I can’t talk even though I’m fully aware of what’s going on.

Eventually I wrote notes on my phone to K and showed them to her. I stayed way past my original appointment time, and by the end was speaking broken, monotone, robotic-like sentences. At least the cloud of detachment lifted a little, almost like a fresh start to feel emotions. I put this shield up, and when having a slight seizure, the shield became a little less strong. This may be good, at least therapeutically for feeling emotions, even though it sucks to feel them.

K says it makes sense for that to have happened, especially if I haven’t been having emotion for nearly 2 years (I corrected that, saying it was only 1.5 years). She said it’s like I just push the emotions away immediately and then they get stuffed (like the teapot effect).

B called me as I was in K’s office. Earlier, I told her I’d be at her house around 4:30. She called me as I was fighting off the seizure and I wasn’t able to answer.

I did see B after K deemed me fit enough to drive. While hanging out with B, she asked me when my break would be, when would I be moving out there (for the summer). I told her mid-May and she tells me that  more lovely news. The house manager/owner of many sober livings told her I’m not to be living in her house come summer, and that I’d be living in the shitty house I lived at last summer and over winter break. This is the house with people significantly older than me, older people who are super unstable and a house manager who is constantly high on pain pills.

Um, no thanks! When was the owner going to tell me this? Probably never, pawned the task off onto B. 

Oh yeah, also it was my friend’s birthday earlier this week, missed it because I didn’t see her and found out that my group of friends I eat most meals with are going to celebrate tonight. I wasn’t invited. wtf? I really don’t have friends, the world is a cruel place.

Oh and I can’t get excited to study abroad because I have no guarantee that Ken will actually pull through and purchase my ticket, considering triple ex has constantly talked him out of things and he meshes with other’s personalities, instead of having an individual personality.

To sum up, I’m looking at another ED (eating disorder) program except I don’t think the timing works well on this one and I may not be able to go. K wants me to get the ED under control so we can work on things further like grieving.

Monday may suck… a lot. My step-aunt died nearly two years ago on the 8th and when calling my step dad (Michael) to say my condolences and saying I could come to the funeral, he told me pointedly that I wasn’t invited because I since I hadn’t been speaking to Barbara that would be hard and it was already hard enough. He talked to me like an animal just as he has done most of my life. I never felt true emotional connection with him, he’s a fake.

6 days later, I found out via Facebook that my best guy friend Morgan died on April 8. So both my aunt and he have the same death day.

K was talking about my need to grieve and then I said to her the grief isn’t so much an issue for my aunt as she and I weren’t close; it was merely the harsh response I got from Michael in regards to the funeral situation. With Morgan however, that’s a whole separate entity and I haven’t really had the chance to grieve like  should, because I’ve never really grieved anything.

She suggested that I do something in memory of Morgan, asked me what he and I used to do. We’d drive to places without a destination in mind, we’d watch movies until the wee hours of the morning, we walked the pier in Santa Monica. We hung out, we talked about anything and everything. Existential talks, I miss them. I miss Morgan. I did connect with someone, and that someone is no longer here. I get why I’m so disconnected, so detached.

Screen shot 2013-03-26 at 1.13.14 PM???

Love this phrase, all too often someone says he or she will do something, and behind the scenes another person comes to find the inaccuracies between what one is saying and what one is doing.

I now try to avoid people who cannot or do not live a generous life face-to-face AND when no one’s watching.

Let’s face it, someone or something is always watching. No I’m not going to preach religious or spiritual beliefs, all I’m saying is, don’t you count? Aren’t you watching yourself, holding (or not) yourself responsible for actions, words, etc.?

I’m not going to tell you I abide by a vegan diet, be really picky at any restaurant we go to, and then go home at night and devour a pepperoni pizza. It’s just not going to happen. I try to live an honest life. I specifically said prior to beginning a vegan diet, I would likely have an exception, and that exception would be frozen yogurt.

Friends continually asked me well, “what about ice cream”? “You can have that can’t you, because it’s close.” Sure, I suppose I could. Will I? Nope. I have tended to hold myself to my words most of my life. I can’t imagine saying one thing and doing another. Yes, I come across unbelievably blunt at times, or emotional, or flustered. Ok, I accept that. That’s me.

So how has this vegan diet been? Hah, I feel like I’m having a one-sided conversation with you readers. Thank you by the way, as always, for taking time out of your day/night to peruse this. I appreciate it! It was an interesting decision to become vegan days before Passover.

For those who aren’t familiar with this Jewish holiday, Passover has a lot of food restrictions, particularly if one is of Ashkenazim descent.

The vegan diet: no animal products or byproducts. The Ashkenazim Passover diet (taken from judaism.about.com) relatively accurate:

“Passover Kitniot

In the Ashkenazi tradition there are additional foods that are usually forbidden during Passover. These foods are called “kitniot” (pronounced kit-neeh-oat) and include: rice, millet, corn and legumes like beans and lentils. These foods are off limits because the rabbis determined they violated the principle of ma’arit ayin. This principle means that Jews should avoid even the appearance of impropriety. In the case of Passover, kitniot can be ground up and cooked with like flour, so they should be avoided.

In Sephardic communities kitniot are eaten during Passover. It is also not uncommon for vegetarians who identify as Ashkenazi Jews to follow the Sephardic tradition during Passover – it’s tough to be a vegetarian during Passover if chametz and kitniot are off the table!”

I didn’t want to delay this diet and constantly make excuses for why I hadn’t transferred to a vegan diet after saying I would the day after returning from Alternative Spring Break and so I didn’t. I also find it interesting that in this description of diet to follow for Passover, it mentions that vegetarians can esssentially change it up. I don’t believe that makes sense. My personal belief about being vegan or vegetarian is just that, personal. No one forced me to do it. My religion which is my culture and arguably engrained in my DNA won’t change even if I convert… my roots, my biological basis as a human is rooted in Ashkenazim Jewish heritage.

So what can I eat? What have I consumed thus far? Unfortunately, my choices are limited but hey, if I think about choice thousands of years ago when my ancestors were effectively wandering in the desert, I am relieved to have as much of a selection as I do. I am grateful.

Thus far, I’ve had whole wheat matzah, fruit, vitamin water (I’m ok with consuming foods or beverages that have no ingredients needing “kosherization”), Jordan Almonds, fruit pieces. Yep, that about sums it up. I do have a plethera of further choices for the upcoming week such as seaweed, kale chips, pistachios, and some products which would require baking (less than 18 minutes of course).

I told my therapist (K) on Sunday that I switched from a vegetarian diet to a vegan diet and the first question she asked, not in a rude way, was “why?” Initially I mentioned the health benefits a vegan diet provides and the evidence showing the benefits of a plant-based diet. Towards the end of the session I told her that it made it a lot easier to merely say I’m vegan than try to explain to people that I’m restricting my intake. I guess that sort of tipped the seesaw for her. She strongly encouraged me to begin attending an evening IOP (intensive outpatient program) to facilitate ways of better dealing with my emotions and those surrounding my weight.

Admittedly, I have lost quite a bit of weight over the past two weeks. I’m not going to put numbers up because I’m not actually trying to compete with anyone (actually reading this). I added the parentheses because I realized that in fact I think I am trying to compete with someone at a subconscious level. First, it was let’s get below my brother’s weight: He’s a mere 160 and 6 feet tall (attribute this to his illness). Then, I’m trying to surpass Barbara’s (I’m her progeny) weight. She nearly 60 years old, 5’6” and 125 pounds. She intends to keep it that way. From what I’ve noticed on Facebook pictures though, she’s likely a lot less (I suppose this is an illness too…. of a different sort).

I’m well-versed in this area. I know what I need to eat, I know how losing weight fast in an instant gratification sort of effort doesn’t pay off in the long run. I know a lot regarding physical well-being. Ironically, I continue to gravitate towards unhealthy coping mechanisms.

 

I couldn’t fathom why K hadn’t texted me back after the text asking “4 on Sun?”. My thoughts have been:

1. She didn’t know what to say. She knows exactly what she did. That’s why she’s not calling me or texting me to see how I am.

2. She didn’t know I was affected

3. Even if she does know, she’s a really bad therapist (never mind the whole other situation) for not responding after some time of my not responding. She’s a pretty shitty therapist to not follow up after her last text on Wednesday considering it’s out of character for me to not respond. Why isn’t she responding?

4. I wish you (K) were my friend too. I need a friend. I need someone to check in on me, someone who I get along with, someone who can trade life stories with me.

Evidently, as of now, apparently she thought I was coming. Just received the following text:

Running Late K

The therapist at my school believes I should report K.

You know, up until the past few days, I’ve never experienced something like I am now. This wave, this rush of sadness and emotional pain that starts in the pit of my stomach and ends in my throat happens dozens of times a day.

I wish you were my friend.

Now that you’d technically be on the clock, now you’re texting me?

R u coming

I don’t think so, considering I’m an hour away, sitting on my laptop typing this. Are you ever going to step up to the plate and acknowledge what you did? How can you act like you don’t know? And hey, even playing devil’s advocate, if the numerous incidents that have occurred in the past week didn’t tip you off, there is NO WAY I can deal with this now, on break.

Even the mediocre doctoral students are better than no one around to run things by, and they have break too this week. The one I saw on Friday “applauded me” for “only” restricting and not resorting to other behaviors. I guess she thought that losing 8 pounds in four days was a no biggie. And so instead, I’ve been minimizing my emotional pain by restricting my intake. It’s overwhelming to even process all that’s happened even at this extreme restriction level, imagine full-fledged feelings and actually hearing things (including answers) I may not want to hear.

This will be an interesting next few hours. I’m going to try to remain as objective as a news reporter to the situation, yet somehow I don’t believe I can be that detached. It’s also interesting because I know for a fact that C will be seeing her today at 6:30PM, and I told C I’m not doing well (didn’t divulge the reasoning behind it though). I’m not sure if B has an appointment today as well. She and I haven’t been in contact aside from the one text conversation I mentioned in a previous post and one other time about her asking when I was coming to the sober living on Saturday night (yesterday). Apparently, the house manager didn’t relay the message to her that I wouldn’t be staying there. B didn’t ask how I was actually doing any of those short texts. Some people might say she’s too wrapped up in her own stuff to think about others. That might be accurate. Some would say that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t talk with her about what’s going on. The aspect I find most fascinating throughout though is that K, fully aware of how much B has been struggling STILL went to her house IMMEDIATELY after she was fired to tell her. Do you know how easy it is for someone not in denial of an addiction, but not wanting to change ways to completely immerse herself into another person’s life, another person’s drama, so that for a bit, their focus can be entirely elsewhere? I’ll tell you. It’s pretty easy. It’s great, it’s appreciated. AND IT’S DANGEROUS… AND B’s VERY GOOD AT REDIRECTING HER ATTENTION ELSEWHERE. I just want to flick K on the head with that decision because she knows B well enough to know that’s exactly what B did after K left. She shifted her focus to anyone’s problems except her own.

We’ll see what K makes of this whole situation today, we’ll see if she takes any action whatsoever beyond this last text. We’ll see if somehow she can recognize, acknowledge, and validate my pain. I wish it with all my heart that she’ll take notice, and yet, I doubt she will.

I still wish you were my friend.

No one’s problem, everyone’s burden. That’s me. No I’m not having a pity party, more of a realization overload. And I’m feeling hurt, very, very hurt.

Ever split the word therapist up? I have, many times. There are a lot of ways to break it apart, to me the more intriguing is, “the rapist”.  And that about sums up what I feel right now. Exposed, violated, obliterated, kamikaze, sneak attack.

Let’s rewind to a few months ago, late December. Recently discharged from the hospital, I went back to live at the sober living I was living at during my school break. A new person arrived at the house a few days later. I’ll call her “B”. I didn’t make anything of it as B kept to herself most of the time. We began talking one morning, and she asked me what I was doing that afternoon, and was wondering if I could give her a ride to her therapy appointment that afternoon at 2. I said I could but that I’d have to drop her off early since I also had a therapy appointment that day, at 3. She asked me where I was going for my appointment and it turned out we were going to the same town. Then she asked me what therapist I see and lo and behold, we had the same therapist. I’ll call her “K”. This was a shocker to me, big time, but it’s the first thing B and I connected with. We both adored K, and upon arriving at K’s office that afternoon, K was entirely confused to see that we both knew one another and said that it was good that I was only at the sober living house temporarily or else that would create a conflict of interest for her… totally understandable.

B and I became really close, really quickly. We both had a lot of issues thrown into our lives, and reacted to these issues very similarly. B was the first person who actually showed me through her actions that a positive life is possible, even after going through tons of shit. B and I spoke fondly of K, and one time we both agreed that we wished K could be our friend, outside of being our therapist since her demeanor was absolutely awesome and she’d be a chill friend to have. We both met K as outpatients in a partial hospitalization program (at different times). K began individual therapy in conjunction to the group work last October. B and I talked often on the phone after I left the sober living about one week after we met. We saw each other quite a bit still, and then the visits began dwindling down, namely because of my hectic school schedule. We were in and out of touch for weeks, not due to anything in particular. I saw B on Sunday after a session with K. She had an appointment with K as well. She and I barely talked, it felt awkward.

I had just come out of a rough session with K. Ever since my decline about one and a half weeks ago, stemming from sleep deprivation, I’ve been in a funk. I cried the entire last ten minutes of my session, non-stop, saying I needed support and I had none, because I can’t continually give it to myself, it’s draining, it’s entirely too difficult. K wasn’t terribly empathetic or sympathetic and just kind of shrugged it off like, “you’re in that place again”.  I tried to explain to her how dark and depressing it was, she just didn’t get it. We talked about how I haven’t pursued jobs actively since being let go over the summer and how traumatic of an experience that was.  I even e-mailed her afterwards saying I didn’t understand how it was unusual to want support, to need support, and knowing that I can’t get it in the expected places, how was I ever to heal without strong support? I got an odd reply. I replied back with another question and have yet to hear back from her. I don’t want to hear back from her. I don’t want to hear back from a two-faced person, a hypocrite. Here comes the main story:

B has also been in a funk, and declining rapidly. She’s barely eating the equivalent of one snack per day. I didn’t know this until Sunday. I decided I valued our friendship so much that I’d skip out on one class today, one that I enjoy and one that overlaps with an Eating Disorders Anonymous group I’d begun attending over the break. So while we were mulling over what to do with this afternoon, after I had driven over an hour and affording gas that I really can’t budget in without selling more items (I’ve over 100 up for sale on Amazon), B’s phone started ringing. It was K, and she was asking B for directions to her house. This was unusual, my jealously started creeping in. K had no clue that I’d driven out to see B and attend the meeting. We thought that K was coming to convince B to go to the meeting. K and B met in the garage, nothing unusual about that as there are couches and other furniture there and it’s a relatively private place.

B swore the meeting wouldn’t be long because she wasn’t going to be convinced into recovery essentially. I didn’t believe her because K is one of the only people who B confides everything in, and K is pretty good at relating. So when B came in a few minutes later, I was a bit surprised. My surprise rose more when B said, “You won’t believe what happened; K got fired” (from the group therapist position).

That’s when it came to my attention that B and K have two relationships; a professional and therapeutic (very skewed, many mixed messages, tons of jealously rushing through my veins). I told B after some other discussion, “Well I guess you got your wish”. And now I keep wondering… where’s my wish? Where’s my support? Why doesn’t K want to hang out with me, confide in me? I hate the secrets, the suddenness of this all, the double lives they both seem to lead. And I hate that now my support has dwindled to 0. I lost faith in my advisor a few weeks ago, after I tried to go to her for emotional support, and she told me I was a grown up and could deal with the presenting issue at the time my own. But hey it was ok, because I still had K. I still had K and I kind of still had B, somewhere in the back of my mind.

This is such a twisted situation because the two people I’d usually confide in about this are the two involved in the overall situation. I had practically begged to K for support and she wouldn’t give it to me as I needed. She hugs B when B needs a hug as I’ve witnessed.I crave positive human affection and attention and the safest person to give that to me (K), has given me a hug once. Found out also today that K calls B daily to check up on her. Where’s my support, where’s my check up? I need it, I need that support sooo badly. K knows that. I crave having a positive relationship with someone near my age. The three of us are all relatively close in age, five years separates me from K and two years. from B. Conflict of interest my ass! I’ll show you a conflict of interest, right here, right now. I want so badly to have a conversation with K about this whole situation and at the same time, our relationship would never be the same after, and for me, it already isn’t. I have no words to say to the one person I’m supposed to be able to say every detail of my life to. I’m done with her, and I’m devastated because of it.

Today, I’ve lost my sources of support, all of them, and even if not literally, I can’t look at K the same. There’s no equal treatment in her eyes and she’s playing favorites and not giving equal or professional treatment to her clients. B became her friend. Who am I? Scum on the bottom of someone’s shoe. Scum people’d rather chuck aside than deal with scraping off. My walls are tumbling down, I am exposed, I am vulnerable. Enduring the pain of losing the trust of someone who’s supposed to be a safe person, a reliable person, an overall honest person is too difficult to rationalize, conceptualize or emotionally handle. I don’t want to go through how much it hurts to lose faith in humanity all over again. I’m distraught over this, and contemplating the reason for all of this pain and heartache. I need to establish a connection with someone trustworthy, because at this moment, there’s no one and I don’t believe there will ever be another person to rekindle this flame with, therapeutic in nature or not.  And the walls came tumbling down.