One never knows what comes next

This southern city is not my cup of tea. It’s no Earl Grey latte, hell, it’s not even a Starbucks hot black tea. Still though, I cannot ignore the fact that I’m getting signs from the universe that I am right where I should be.

I landed a job in my field. Pays abysmally less than I made in my prior job with the same experience. But, I’ve met some great people, and become great friends already with one of my colleagues, another proud member of Rainbow Club*.

With some trepidation, I managed to find a DID therapist. She’s crazy expensive, but I can tell she knows what she’s doing. That job I got is not giving me hassle about working from home one day a week so that I can easily go to my sessions. And I can just feel that I’ve reached a new place in my therapeutic process. My last therapist was incredibly supportive of me, but she had no DID experience. I tried a few times to find a therapist in my last city that had DID experience, and it did not go well for many reasons. I sense that it’s time for a new phase in my process, and I’ve found the right person for it. And I am in the right city with the right job and with the right wife to make it all possible.

And, yet, despite all this, I’m aching to ask my new therapist, “It’s all a mistake right, I don’t have this DID thing after all?” The feeling that it’s all made up, and all for attention just permeates my sense of being at times with no warning. It just pops out like a bad, obnoxious pop-up shop on the street with never ending noise and confusion. Then the feeling goes away like it was never there, until it is again.

*Rainbow Club is my own way of describing those of us that identify as LGBTQIA.

therapist casting call

The need for a new therapist leads to the inevitable therapist auditions. You start out with the false notion that you’re Broadway, and you can snag an Idina Menzel or Sutton Foster. It does not take long for reality to reveal itself to you. You are, indeed, not the Great White Way. Heck, you are not even a LORT theatre on the regional theatre circuit. You’re more akin to a summer stock theatre in the backwoods of northern Vermont, far from any amenities that A list or even B list actors are accustomed to having.

Such is the quest for a therapist when one has dissociative identity disorder (DID). You need an Idina Menzel or a Sutton Foster, but you’re summer stock in the far reaches of Vermont, and you are not going to find such a person. You look at your options, and think, shit, I should move. But let’s be real. You’re ensconced where you live with your career, apartment, gym, tea shop, etc. Plus, you know you’re not up for a geographical move. It’s not an option. Instead, your therapist options are limited.

Like all good theatre directors that make the most of their meager options, you choose the one with the most positive energy. That’s the only distinguishing factor since all 3 are equally credentialed. If this was Broadway, off-Broadway or even a LORT theatre she wouldn’t get a call back. But these are the dregs of summer stock, so you make the most of it, and she gets the part of Therapist. She’s thrilled, and you’re shamefully resigned.

It’s clear to you that you’re the jerk in this situation. No doubt. And the saddest part is that you don’t care. You’ve run out of patience with therapists that you have to manage. You should not have to be the one with the consistent wise mind time and time again.

But then you see that all out effort she’s putting forth, and you know she’s trying her best, and putting her best foot forward. But it is what it is, and a best fit it is not. You have to make the most of the situation. You’ve seen the gamut of DID therapists out there. This is the best of the lot. You are not going to find Idina or Sutton. This is it, so make the most of it.