Category Archives: dissociative identity disorder

the elusive hunt for a new therapist

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12

Readers of this blog may not be surprised to learn that I am looking for a new therapist. There was the incident in January, and there have been other incidents since then that I’ve not written about. I am done, beyond fucking done. I know it might be useful to others to share the latest experience with Doc that led me to this decision, but it is too upsetting. To summarize, (my writing teacher would so object, we should never summarize, but I need to in this case) by Doc’s own admission there has been too much countertransference from him in my sessions. He’s apologized profusely, but he does this every single time. He apologizes profusely, and then it happens again! I’ve also noticed it happens on a 1-2 month interval.

It’s practically been a part-time job trying to find a new therapist. I’ve called therapists that I was given as possible leads, and when one particular therapist could not take me on as a client because she did not have room she offered to try to find me some leads. I’ve then been following up with those leads, and I am disheartened that too many of these people are not good about returning phone calls. A note to any therapists out there reading this: Even if you can’t take on a patient, you should return their phone call and tell them you have no room! I would like to know why the hell I have to put such an obvious thing in a blog post. Returning phone calls in a timely manner (1-2 business days) is the appropriate thing to do, and aside from that, it’s the kind thing to do. A person is looking for a therapist for fuck’s sake! It’s not like I called to order a pizza. I imagine in most professions it is inappropriate to not return phone calls. The expectation is not lowered for therapists, just saying in case some therapists out there are not aware.

I was asked by one therapist how complex I am. I did not know how to answer this question, so gave her my take of myself at this point. Then I never heard back from her. All this searching is made more difficult by the fact that I am looking for someone with experience treating dissociative identity disorder as well as PTSD.

I feel like I’m in a lake with no boat.

a miraculous thing worth mentioning

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This past Sunday for the first time as long as I can remember I got out of bed at a reasonable time. I was not super-glued to the bed with fog and dissociation the way I am on most Sundays.

I got out of bed, and I knew I wanted a kale smoothie with pineapple and mango. So many mornings I’ve wanted this, had the ingredients in the freezer, but then the world turned into a fog and all I could do eventually was extricate myself from the apartment in order to not lose any more time. But, this was not the case this past Sunday. I thought about the pineapple mango kale smoothie and how I had brand new freshly washed organic kale in my refrigerator. I focused on the fact that I wanted the cool, fruity, creamy and clean taste that comes from combining kale, pineapple, mango and banana in a smoothie.

I told myself, “Today you can do this. You want this. You want to have a smoothie at home for breakfast.” I turned on the tv to a show I had recorded: “NCIS Los Angeles” while I made my smoothie along with some wheat toast on the side. I felt myself start to float, but when I felt this start to happen I would look at the beautiful kale, and think to myself “if you leave the apartment you will not be able to have your favorite smoothie.”

And, let’s be frank, the incredible loud whir of a VitaMix blender will bring anyone dissociating back to present time. It’s like a jet fighter is taking off in your kitchen.

Much to my amazement, I had myself a kale smoothie with a side of wheat toast with local salted butter. It all felt right and homey. I actually watched two episodes of “NCIS Los Angeles.” Before I knew it I spent the entire Sunday at home doing homework, and cooking for myself. I did find that there are some dangers to staying home and eating. It is far too easy to polish off an entire box of Annie’s Organic Cheddar Bunnies Snack Crackers. Then there was the attempt to cook a package of turkey bacon for the week so that I could make sandwiches with the meat. That was a pipe dream! The turkey bacon did not last through Monday.

I deem this past Sunday a strangely significant milestone for me. I’ve no idea what was different about this past Sunday, but I’ll take it, along with a kale smoothie.

just a kids birthday party

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You are minding your own business typing on your laptop and spacing out. Then bam! What the hell is that? Your body instantly shakes. You want to hide, but there is no table high enough to get under as you only have a coffee table in front of you as you sit in your favorite cozy comfy chair at the tea shop. The guy next to you sees you shake and says, “It’s just a kids birthday party.” You feel a part of you get angry at him, and you can feel the hot gaze that you are giving him. He offers his hand to yours, but you’re too much in touch with this angry part of you to take his hand. Another kinder part of you wishes you had taken his hand. This nicer part of you knows that he was just stating a fact to you without judgement, but the other angry part of you still fights this understanding, and insists on being a weenie jerk with a wall of silence.

You feel stupid when you realize it’s just a balloon popping from the birthday party in the next room of the tea shop. A river of tears comes pouring out of your eyes, and there is no place to hide, no way to shield it from the people sitting around you knitting as the set up is a series of comfy chairs around a coffee table. Someone asks, “What happened, hon?” You can’t answer because you have not yet found your words. Your words are floating around you like bubbles you can’t catch. You reach for your words and they disintegrate before they come out of your mouth as articulated verbiage. The lady next to you says, “Did someone say something mean to you?” Then the guy beside you says, “Balloon popping from the birthday party startled her.” Thankfully, his explanation lessens their attention on you. Everyone mercifully goes back to their knitting.

Your mind is still amped up and jumbled like a slew of cords that can’t be untangled. And just like Adam Sandler’s character who fought PTSD in the movie, Reign Over Me, you put in your ear buds and turn up the volume as loud as you can take it. You need the jolt of music to hit all your senses so that you can try to get out of this cloak of fear that will not come off. Coincidentally, when you hit play “Shake It Off” is what you hear. That’s ok, it’s just the song you need to distract you because you do need to shake it off.