I don't really have a story as I've seemingly been living in a terrible state of denial. This is sort of an account of what's been going on and how I got to this point, specifically over the last 6 months. I wanted it posted here, because I wouldn't mind discussing the issues in this, I'm wondering if anyone can relate to this.
Today I had a session with a psychatric nurse, through the NHS. She uses CBT and I hate CBT and know this won't work for what I need, which is trauma therapy. Anyway, this one tries her best but I know she feels out of her depth, but its something I have to go through if I even wanted to be considered for psychotherapy, which I'm not sure is gonna happen, I might just have to quit the smoking all together and spend what I would on that on therapy instead.
Regardless I got told to cut down today, I told her about my habbits and all she can say is the obvious. Of course I know what I'm doing, but I don't care. In the UK, we have free health care on the National Health Service, I have no money and can't afford my own therapy so I got told to request it on the health service. Went to the docts a few months ago to ask to see a psychotherapist. I hoped I could just ask and be put on a waiting list, but they need to be told why you want to go and when I told my doctor, he started asking about the physical side of things. I had always discounted my anxiety, OCD and other ailments as just a part of my existance, things that were simply just there. I didn't want to bother anyone with these minor problems when there are other people in need. I think this was me devaluing myself.
I went on to tell the doc about the panic attacks, certain feelings and he said well "you've came asking for therapy, not for medication. So I know you're not drug seeking, despite your substance misuse. Obviously stop the substances and I'm going to subscribe you with an SSRi based anti-depressent which works well with symptons of PTSD and anxiety, as well as depression." I initially refused, I didn't want to be on behaviour medication, but I realised there was an easy way out of feeling this way and he swayed my vote. The first few weeks were hell, I felt all sorts, I randomly ended up screaming, having embarrasing accidents, which was partly due to the medication and partly to do always having slightly uncontrolable bowels.
The reason I requested a psychotherapist in the first place, takes part at the beginning of my journey. It started November 2012. I kept breaking down after every so many months at work, as I had been living as we survivors who have forgotton live. It was upon one more 'discussion' about my behaviour that I broke down, but this wasnt the first time. I let myself break down, I didn't stop it. She initially came down heavy, but she could see I was in actual distress, her tone changed and she suggested I go use the employer funded therapy service. I was always a hard person for management to deal with, I know the rules and I push peoples buttons or I'm just that young guy in the office whose a harmless aspiring eccentric.
Being quite fortunate, I was refered to quite an experienced therapist, who lived but a stonethrow away from my workplace. She had all sorts of letters behind her name, I felt like an inferior force about to confront a superior one. Her experience, skills and achievments were impresseive. I was quite suprised to been so lucky, but after a few sessions I thought they meant nothing and she couldn't help me. No one could. Of course I was wrong,it wasn't till the 4th session that my views of her changed and things started to slip into place slowly. I never thought about CSA. I always said my life was perfect up until 12, then it got shit, despite having very little memory of those years. For what I did remember, it was rarely positive. I mentioned being a kid and having OCD about being gay, she briefly mended my uncertainities about my sexuality and helped me make a rationalisation. I'm not sure if I mentioned my fetish, I didn't think it relevant at the time, I wasn't even thinking about CSA. We talked about many things, my concept of love (wrong), how my relationships weren't balanced as I was the carer and there was no equality when I described my friendships. I talked about my anger, my guilt and my lack of self worth.
Anyhow, on this 4th session I said something, I can't remember what exactly but she retoreted with "ah...yeah, I can see it now, thats the seed planted." Slightly twisting her face in a sort of 'haha, you're fucked' sort of way, yet it wasn't sadistic. I looked at her in a puzzled manner. Come the sixth session I tricked her into thinking we already had it. After having the epiphany of all the things I remembered and all the things I said in therapy and the thoughts I've had, the things I've done, everything I learned from my own therapy training; all pointed to that same thing. No...it couldn't be, not me? This is obviously confused with something else. I have access to research papers because I'm a member of a therapy association, so I did my research. Everything started to become verified academically. I became addicted to wanting to find out more, more validation, perhaps I could believe it was real then. I'm making this up, I'm trying to justify the violent and fucked up thoughts I've had, the things I'm ashamed and embarrased about, the things that make me shudder when I think about them and make me want to hit myself for being so dumb. I've always searched for a label, none of them ever quite described me as well as this.
A few weeks later I tried to call her to rearrange the sixth session after I realised what came to light, but unfortunetly I shot myself in the foot by tricking her out of giving me a 6th session. I couldn't go back and I couldn't afford her rates privately. I begged her to tell me what it is she thought I was going through, she said she couldn't "open a wound and let you bleed out because I can't be there to do that". Hence why she recommened I go see a psychotherapist that specialises in trauma.
I type I, but I and me are two different things. I is the one that controls the body, but I is not in control of me. It may sound a bit confusing, but I describe it like this; you're watching a movie in a cinema, you can see everything thats going on, but no matter how hard you scream at the movie; you can't change it.
I graduated from University last year, after studying for four years to become a therapist and have such; been working in various organisations. One of which provided supervision for free. Supervision is something therapists who want to do things properly, go to every few weeks, to talk about how they do things mainly, but the role of the supervisor is like a mentoring role, but for the individual and for their skills. Kinda like Yoda's. I however, got someone who in sight and nature; was much like the oracle from the matrix. Always speaking in riddles and kind logical sense; she has put up with me quite well. I think she figured me out the first few minutes I walked through the door, she's also one of these super experienced therapists with all the letters behind her name, but she seems to be the counter to the thereapist I seen. Both powerful, both different perspectives. She told me I don't need psychotherapy, I just need to be honest with myself, as I was in 'HUGE' denial.
Couldn't be further from the truth. Drabs have came together and my body still reminds me, though my mind trys to translate the message into a memory; it comes slowly. What I do remember blinkers and sends my heart racing, I convinced myself I am ready, but clearly I am not.
I have lost a lot of weight. I have lost my apetite, I have became reckless, I do not care. I have not surrendered to silence, crashing and burning, I've been documenting my struggle with those around me and watching as they are powerless to help. I feel as if I'm taking revenge on people who have done nothing, in a very covert way.
I feel the goodness within me, the care and sincerity for the plight of all things moral and ethical. But the corruption within, taunts me. I cannot ignore this past and everytime someone says just look ahead, I say the only way I can do that is through a mirror. Because my gaze is fixated on the past, it's not something I'm gonna shrug off and ignore because every decision I made and every missed oppurtunity I watched go by, everything I've done has been influenced so hugely by this one thing.
I have shaved off so many wrong beliefs that I've carried, but there are so many more deeply imbeded that makes moving forward as pointless as trying to fill up a holey bucket.
I never told anyone anything, because it would hurt them and it is. I told my mother and she tried to convince me I was autistic at first, then schziophrenic and a few other conditions were thrown in there. I decided to get tested for them all just to prove it to her I wasn't, she still remains unsure, despite her saying at the beginning she believed me. I think her denial has been stronger than mine.
Or maybe she's right.
Despite my catharsis, I am no further forward. I was better off in denial, at least then I wasn't getting wasted every day to deal.
Edited by Poorsoft (04/26/13 10:58 PM)