Warning up top: This Blog has become more negative then intended. Plus seriously, how often can the subject of Peanut Butter come up.. Apologies in advance.
It happened, I wore out my Therapist! Or at least, she cannot help me anymore is what I am told. It is a strange story that is quite common in therapy land. Or maybe it only happens to me.. Let’s start at the very beginning (yes from the Sound of Music… I am such a dork).
I think I started to notice it two months ago. Me and my Therapist had little or nothing to say to each other. This is probably my own fault. I am supposed to do exposure therapy, which, I have explained before, is doing things you find scary to overcome your fear. Alas we got stuck on the Peanut Butter.
I was supposed to take a peanut butter sandwich to Therapy so I could eat it in a safe environment and feel and know that nothing would happen to me (cue laughter). I know, I know, it seems ridiculous and it feels ridiculous but the idea behind it is not strange. You can overcome fear by facing it.
However, I am quite a stubborn person and I do not want to eat a peanut butter sandwich so I never brought it. Also, I have had other stuff on my mind during these past months.
Unfortunately, this must have stagnated the process in my Therapists mind and we finally ended up in a conversation where she basically told me she could not help me anymore and I might need more specialist care. I secretly think they have a target. Get your clients better in 10 sessions in order to get a bonus.
This is where I ended up in murky waters. I asked her if she could refer me to another therapist. I did not get a real answer but in my experience, they never can. Until I have a new one she will keep seeing me once a week (hurray).
So, of to my own Doctor I went. I am sure a collective sigh of annoyance went up there but I got added to an 84-day waiting list for specialist care. Yes 84 days..
Funny thing is that I was ok with it. This happens quite a lot and I thought I was doing alright, right? Then I got some reactions to my last Blog and realised I might not be doing so well.. That’s what friends and family are for I guess. To tell you that you are not fine even though you are pretending you are.
I think the thing about having an Anxiety Disorder is that you start living around it and since I bounce back quicker than before, I feel that I am doing ok most off the time. The fact that twice a week I am gasping for air has become normal, a Life half lived is becoming normal (cue tears).
Then, last week, my Therapist called and infuriated me. She was contacted by the person who handles the 84-day waiting list, requesting information. She, my therapist, told me quite bluntly (she is Dutch) that if I didn’t work for it, this specialist therapy would not work either. Hereby implying that I am not doing my best.
I got very indignant (I was hurt) and told her that every day is hard work and bladibla etc. She said she understood but stood by her statement.
Now looking back, and reading my last Blog I think she might be right and that the time has come to be a bit stricter and more honest with myself. Getting into the exposure grind again.
So, if you see me passing by holding a jar of Peanut Butter and a glass of Wine, on my way to take the elevator up the EYE building (look it up), do not be surprised. I am getting my exposure on!