A Crack in the Road   Leave a comment

I’ve decided to take a break from therapy.

I’m slightly shocked by this decision, honestly – I’m of the opinion that those of us who take psychotropic medications should be in therapy at some point, and just because I don’t think it needs to be for life, I still feel weird about stopping.  And, I’m not sure if it’s going to be a long-term or short-term break.

Here’s the thing: I last saw my therapist (the new one, not The Amazing Dr. Barb) two weeks before Christmas.  My schedule intervened, and then hers intervened, and I was supposed to see her at lunch time today…but my work-from-home day changed to Mondays and the commute from my office to her office is way too long for a lunch break.  So, I planned to text her to tell her that my schedule changed again…except the more I thought about going, the more it felt like a horrible chore.

I am not used to therapy feeling like a horrible chore.  Even at my most fucked-up, emotionally overwhelmed, screaming and crying, not-wanting-to-deal-with-reality, spoonless times, therapy was constructive and I actually looked forward to it.  It was like putting a puzzle together, or dumping the entire toy box out onto the floor to figure out what things belong together and what things don’t.  It was…good.

Therapy now is not good.  My new therapist is good, and she says all the right things, and she’s not horrified by me, and I’d probably recommend her to other people.  I just don’t think we fit each other.  It isn’t one of those overwhelmingly bad fits like the dozens of people who told me promiscuity wasn’t something that people who were sexually assaulted did.  (Yeah, I know.) But, there’s something just not right about it and, as a result, I dread going because I know it’s going to feel all awkward and weird.

It’s like a series of bad dates, actually, with the person everyone tells you is right for you, and so you date them, and even though there’s no chemistry you keep doing it because there’s nothing really wrong with the person.  And, quite frankly, if I want bad dates, I can go back on OK Cupid and meet all of the people who message me insisting that their spouse doesn’t understand them.

I’m also, kind of, bothered by the fact that she only communicates by phone or text.  And, quite frankly, I’m still annoyed that she isn’t Dr. Barb.  These things are not her fault.  I know they’re not her fault but…yeah.  So, I texted her and let her know I wanted to take a break and that I’d contact her in a month or so.  By then, I should know if I want to give it a try with her again, or find someone else, or just stop for now.

Blargh.  I wonder if I’m actually sane enough to attempt going without entirely, or if I need the safety net of being able to go back.  I wonder if I will go back.  Oh well, at least medication is a definite – they’ll pry my Paxil out of my cold, dead hands.


Posted January 7, 2015 by veggiewolf in Depression, monsters, self-esteem

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