Venting Adventures in therapy

[Skallagrim]

So let me tell you about an experience I had with a therapist. My very last experience with a therapist. An experience that makes me sometimes just physically cry out to this day. This was way over 20 years ago now, when I was in my early twenties.

I saw this therapist twice. The first time I'd seen him it felt like a job interview or something. He'd asked me a bunch of cookie cutter questions, which I answered. None of these questions were particularly pertinent to my experiences. I'd explained my really fractious relationship with my dad, and he seemed to push back on me at that point. His other question was; "What about your sexual experiences?" (seriously, that was literally what he said to me). I said "None", to which his eyebrows went up and he said "Really?" I already felt bad enough about this, somewhat humiliated and kind of like I was a freak who nobody wanted to touch. This didn't help (this is going to be very relevant soon). I go into further details about my agoraphobia, about my anxiety, and extreme stress in social situations.

He gives me a phone number on a bit of paper for something called "worklink" and tells me to call it, telling me that they will give me support to get a job.

A month later I'm due back for my second appointment. I go along, I sit in the waiting room. He emerges, asks for me, and I follow him down the corridor.

He stops outside the door, his hand on the door handle. "There are going to be two doctors sitting on our session today. Is that ok?"

Now I have crippling self-esteem issues, no self confidence, and absolutely no ability to stand up for myself unless I have a good run up. I know that almost everyone here knows exactly what I am talking about. I couldn't assert myself and say "no" even at the best of times. Besides, as things sounded then and, given my previous experience which mostly just a checklist, I didn't really feel too bothered.

But when I got in there, I felt a wave of sheer horror.

There are two women in there. Both of these observers are female. One is my age, the other quite a bit older. I go in and sit down. I start talking about myself. I start getting giddy and panicky. The guy asks if I called the worklink people. I confess that I hadn't. He *demands* to know why. I said I just couldn't, I couldn't face calling strangers, I'd picked the phone a few times, I kept putting it down. I can't be proactive like that. I get even more agitated. He tells me that he can't help unless I work with him.

I start biting my hand and shaking.

Then the younger of the two women - she looks out of the window. I've never forgotten this. I'm was there, on display, a freak, a mental oddity to practice on, listening to me describe how worthless a person I am. But she's uncomfortable, trying to remove herself from this situation, staring out of that damn window for some kind of escape. I felt like a monster.

I said I was better and I didn't need any more help. The psychiatrist disagreed and told me that I had "severe anxiety symptoms", truly the Sherlock Holmes of the mental health industry.

I just got up and left, walking home crying a bit. When I saw my GP about 3 weeks later I discharged myself from the mental health services and never went back (though I did get citalopram, sertraline, mirtazapine, and effexor at various points from the GP).

That therapy session was one of the worst moments of my life. It sounds really trite and pathetic - I wasn't in any danger, a friend or family member hadn't died, nobody was hurt - it was just me talking for (literally) about 10 minutes. But I felt like I was being forced to confront the fact that I was worthless, that everything I was going through was a product of who I was, which was a terrible excuse for a human being.

I'm not quite sure why I've typed this lot up. I suppose part of it is because I've never told anyone this before, and I really just want to put it somewhere. This seems like the best place.

Also, it's something I've never been able to come to terms with. Sometimes I'll remember it and be unable to sleep. Other times I'll remember it and cry out or growl to myself. If anyone can offer a word or two, I don't know, some absolution of some sort, that might help.

 

[derekWest]

I'm so sorry for your bad experience. In my opinion, this therapist don't ask you if you consent (not in a free way) that 2 stangers stay during the session. Maybe, it is a form of "spirit rape" (often, rape is define as a violation of a consentment).

Every suffer is legitimate. It can be seem unsignifiant for many because we don't see this "unconsentment" . But it is real. And it have to be "take care" to allow you to go forward and that event stop to bother you, i think.

I don't understand who are theses strangers ?

According your description, we can think that this therapist have a certain form of sexual predator ? For my part, if a therapist ask me a question at the first session about my sexual life, i will be quite ofended, i think.

 

[Skallagrim]

I don't understand who are theses strangers ?

I don't know about the older woman. She was in her 30s, and so past the age of training, unless she was starting her career late. She might have been doing some sort of mental health training?

The younger one, I'm guessing, was either a doc, nurse, or psychiatrist in training. She was about my age (early 20s). If this is the case though, she really should have been primed to handle these sorts of situations. I have never been able to forget her reaction to me biting my hands.

What's weird to me is that the psychiatrist himself didn't handle it well. I've gone over this so many times, and wondered what the hell he was doing. My previous interaction with him was really basic, as I said - cookie cutter questions, he jotted things down, I went on my way.

Perhaps he thought he'd get a repeat of that? Maybe he wanted to give these two trainees something a bit easy to start out?

If this is the case, he was a terrible mental health worker, as he really should have seen me at least 5 more times before deciding he knew me well enough to put me in that situation.