face to face or internet therapy?

There were some things i should have said to my therapist last time we met[last week.] 45 minutes after i got home i texted him with an apology, telling him i should have told him how sad i am but that i just couldn’t. I told him not to reply because i only wanted “someone to know” that i was sad. I apologized because by not telling him how i felt, i was wasting his time and not being honest. And then i cried until i felt better.

Today, I considered writing about the reasons i feel sad here. I haven’t decided whether i will or not, but in the meantime i started thinking about how spilling my guts [sharing my thoughts] here accomplishes the same thing as telling a therapist.

Usually, when i do express a painful emotion or thought to him, he nods that a} he heard me or b} he understands but, as a rule, not a lot else. I can accomplish that by posting here. I don’t need anyone to reply or comment to feel heard or better. {I do appreciate when people take the time to comment or send a like, though.} It’s just that i need to get it out of my head. I think i might be more honest and edit less on a post because it’s anonymous and there are no faces to try to interpret. Sometimes, i get more support here. Fellow travelers seem to know what to say. Also, i don’t need an appt. here, i don’t have to drive anywhere, and it doesn’t cost an arm and a leg.

Doc

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A night out

Howdy,
I actually went out last night with my brother-in-law to a local restaurant overlooking St. Leonard’s creek and had dinner and (more importantly) wine. I got fairly trashed and even enjoyed the country band even though I’m not especially a fan of country music. We talked a lot and I felt comfortable talking about my fucked up head even though I never had before and am usually loathe to. He tried to convince me how devastated he and my sister would be if I kill myself. I know. I’m trying really hard not to let that happen, I swear. He also tried to convince me that the psychiatrist at Hopkins – who told me repeatedly that pot was evil and contributing to my problems- could be right and would I please, at least, consider the possibility. Sorry, my friend, not going to happen. I have said repeatedly, to him and others, that I think pot is the only reason I am still alive. It takes me away from all the shit that gets in my head.
I talked to my brother today, who is coming down from W.Va. to visit next Tuesday. One of his main reasons for coming to visit is that he wants to get totally trashed on weed and go see Godzilla in 3D. Should be good!
I’ve been flashing back to my days at Hopkins lately and one thing that keeps popping up is the comment one of the R.N.’s kept telling us as he gave us group therapy. “Just remember that the best any of you could do was wind up here at the back of a locked psych. unit.” Bastard. Like that was even remotely helpful. I just think he thought he was being oh so clever and liked hearing himself talk. In all honesty, I don’t think any of the so-called groups did a fuck”s worth of good. But, maybe I was just bitter because I had been involuntarily confined there. Who knows. Some people I read claim groups are helpful to them. Wish I was one of them.
Anyway, now that I’m over my wine and pot induced hangover, I HAVE to try and get something productive and normal done. Wish me luck. Doc.

Psychotherapy, again

So… where was i?

I had stopped therapy for about a month in Dec.-Jan. 2012.  I had been seeing someone since June 2009 1-2x/week and was really beginning to think it was making me worse.  To be honest, i was and still am, not exactly sure what i was (am) supposed to be doing.  I asked one of my therapists once “what do you want me to do here?”.  She said “If i tell you, you’ll do it.” Emm…ok(what?)   So, when i got discharged from the hospital last time (Oct. 2011) the shrink recommended a therapist with “more experience”.   But as luck would have it, i’m NOT better just because i’ve stopped talking.

So, out of the blue (probably not, but that’s a story for another day) my current T called me up last week to “see how you’re doing”.  I caved because i’m doing crappy and asked to resume our sessions.  She agreed and i went in last week.  Maybe the first 5 or 6 visits were “gettin’ to know you” sessions because last week she finally asked me some probing questions.

“Are you sleeping?   “no”

“Are you eating, going outside, seeing your psychiatrist?”  “sort of, no, no”

“Do you have any friends?”  “no, i can’t seem to keep that going”

“Have you had any visitations?  “what?”

“The wolf.”  “i’ve heard him, i haven’t seen him lately.”

“What does he say?”   “he wants to know why i haven’t killed myself yet.”

“What did you tell him?  “i make deals with him, i do other things for him.  If i don’t, bad things will happen (again).”

When i told her that i’ve recognized certain behaviors in myself when i’m not well, (like now) as before,  she said “like before when you’ve ended up in a psych. hospital after an overdose?”.  “yes”

So, she made a couple of suggestions re:  sleep (5-HTP),  seeing the shrink (do it),  my visitor (tell him you’re not ready).  As i was leaving, she said she was worried about me.  I didn’t know how to respond, so i just left.  I see her again tomorrow.

Doc.