So I have an appointment after work to see Dr. Psychiatrist. Ho hum, you say.
But it ** scares ** me very much. Going to therapy, I think, is the only thing I can think of that i have a real phobia for.
I went for one other session three weeks ago. All she asked me was superficial information, like if i have a boyfriend and how many brothers and sisters i have… harmless questions. I was so offended by the intrusiveness of these questions that i was on the brink of heaving sobs- I know how irrational that is, seeing as I say more personal things than that here without much compunction.
Anyway, I’m scared! After my last session, three weeks ago, I ran out of the building and dashed down the street. I ran and ran and scared a bunch of pigeons. I ran as if the building and all the horrible things inside it would catch me if I didn’t run fast enough.
I need to go, though. At least a few people have suggested it.
I told my new boyfriend I was going there today and you know what he did? He gave me a smiling plastic dinosaur to bring in so I wouldn’t have to be alone. I put the dinosaur in my metal Monster Women lunch box. I put some rubber monster women in there as well so the dinosaur could have some fun while he’s shut up in a dark lunch box all day. They’re hotties- they have heads and upper torsos of women and hindquarters of scorpions and centipedes and snakes.
So I was wondering two things:
Do you think the Dr. will mind if I bring my lunch box full of toys in with me? As long as they stay in the lunch box?
Does anyone else here go to therapy or counseling or anything?
Does anyone have any encouraging stories that will make me less scared?
I suppose if you have a horrifying shrink story I will apppreciate that too, because i still have a sense of humor.
believer in therapy (with a good therapist).
Change is scary. Posting on an anomymous board is NOT the same thing.
If people have suggested it seriously to you, probably wouldn’t be a bad idea to check it out.
when it works, it works very well. Sometimes, just talking and saying the words out loud removes the power they have over you.
my best to you, will save the “therapist from hell” stories for you until after you’ve had a chance to be there for a moment.
I think, too, if you just carried your lunchbox in the room and made no mention of it, no one else would, either… If however, you used the lunchbox toys as a means to avoid talking, that might become an issue…
I’ve been through a lot of therapy. Don’t worry, it’s not nearly as bad as an IOP treatment. That stuff bites. Remember the therapist is actually trying to help you.
Turpentine- I am sure that people have brought much odder things into a counseling session. If they make it easier to go, bring them. I know what you mean about being scared to go. It’s an unknown thing, so you’re scared- very normal. You’ll get over the scared thing a few minutes into it, and be fine. I can’t see someone getting chastised for bringing something like a lunchbox to a counseling session. The counsellor might ask you about it, but I’d be -really- surprised if you were given a hard time. I’ve seen lunchboxes used as purses, so it probably would not be given a second thought.
Bring it if you want to.
I was terrified to start therapy, but I knew it had to be done. It changed my life - was the best decision I ever made. Go for it, but don’t do it half-assed. It can be scary, but you have to embrace that fear. 5 years of your life will go by. You can either change and grow and learn about yourself and enjoy your life or you can stay exactly the way you are now. Either way, your life is happening and you aren’t living it the way you want to. Don’t waste any more time! You’re an amazing person. Give yourself a chance. You won’t believe what you’ve been missing.
I’ve recently started seeing a counselor for my depression. It has been helpful, but that could just be the medication talking.
Here’s some ideas for when they start with the stereotypical psychiatrist stuff:
The Ink Blots - yell at him for having the balls to show you nude pictures of your mother and call him a sick bastard.
Word Association - two choices here: 1) Don’t listen to what he’s saying and randomly throw words back at him, or 2) Repeat the word he says right back at him as if you don’t understand the object of the exercise.
Tell About Your Childhood - make up an in depth fictional account and memorize it before your first visit. See Dr. Evil’s description of his childhood in the first Austin Powers movie for some ideas. Make it bizarre, but not too horrifying.
Seriously though, go in with an open mind; the doctor is there to help you. There’s nothing to be afraid of unless he tries hypnosis and you wake up with your pants around your ankles, the doctor satisfyingly enjoying a cigarette, and a strange aching in your rectum that wasn’t there when you first arrived.
Damn, if I could go to therapy continuously I probably would. Unfortunately, my finances won’t hear of it, and the therapist I went to wasn’t the type who encouraged life long therapy. He helped me get through my divorce, and then booted me out…hehehee, OK, it wasn’t exactly a boot, but it was clear that I could deal with my problems on my own.
I think it’s a great thing. You have someone at your complete disposal, ready to listen to you whine about your problems, and they actually give useful advice (as opposed to friends, who tend to get a little bored after the 130th time you try to tell them about how great your life would be if you could just get rid of that bastard husband). I’d say go into it with an open mind. Sure, you have to share personal information, but it stays between you and the therapist. He/she can’t go telling anyone else. It’s a great help in hard times.
I know I’m screwed up in some ways, but I kinda like me sometimes. I like that I can bring dead animals back to life and make them fly around like wee angels.
I like that me and my pretty boy like to eat loud leafy celery stalks at goth clubs while wearing striped shirts and sometimes goggles.
I also like drawing stars on my face with lipstick and sometimes my pretty boy lets me draw on him with a Sharpie marker.
And I like when my roomate and I put saucepans on our heads and head-butt eachother.
You said this was my chance to get normal, but I would miss doing these things if I turned normal.
Thanks, but I am hoping just to get rid of the icky part of my brain.
Trust me Turp, no counselor will ever make you “normal” unless that is your goal. He will help you push the “icky part of your brain” into a little used corner so that other parts of your brain can control, even dominate the “icky” part. So if “normal” for you IS wearing kitchen utensils and trying to give your roommate a concussion, that will still be a part of you.
And as for Bratman007, he SHOULD be swatted on the nose with a rolled up newspaper. Turp, if you’re asked to take such tests, leave. You aren’t going to a psychiatrist to test your sanity, you’re going to a counselor to wrest control from the “icky part of your brain”.
Turpentine - taking your lunch box should be a good test for your therapist. A good therapist will allow you to have your box and will not try to force you to do anything that you don’t want to do. Nor should you be required to change the way you do anything. Therapy should be about learning new ways of doing things that you can do if you want to.
Also, the therapist should not define what is right or wrong behavior by what is “normal”, only by what makes your life better.
If you feel unwilling to answer any questions, please tell your therapist. The first few weeks of therapy is all about building trust between you and your therapist. When I had therapy as a very small child (4th grade) I didn’t trust my therapist & didn’t get anything at all out of that experience. In my adult life I have had therapy with another counselor that I did trust and got a great deal from it.
IOP? It’s intensive outpatient treatment. It varies on the program but is generally a 5 hour a day 3 day a week group therapy session. The other people who were in it were the most depressing people I’ve ever met. My god were they bad. The two worst were the Mormon Lesbian who didn’t want kids and they Philipino houseife with the pregnant 14 year old kid and abusive husband. I mean, they had problems and all, but listenting to them constantly just sucked.
Turps, you’re bbraver than I am. I need to go to a therapist, my insurance will pay for it. But I haven’t been brave enough to call the insurance company and get it set up. You tell me that everything went fine, and maybe it’ll give me some courage.
I’ve been doing therapy off and on for about 2 years now. It changed my life in a big way. It gave me strength to change, and hope for a brighter future after dealing with my “issues”.
It took me about 4 or 5 sessions to get reasonably comfortable. Give your therapist and yourself some time to settle into a groove.
And it took me almost a year to get comfy enough that I could make eye contact with my therapist. (I’m also quite shy)
My biggest fear was - and still is - that I would be judged by my friends and coworkers as defective. After all, people only go to see doctors when they’re screwed up, right? Nobody has to know but you.
My insurance only pays for so much, so I will be starting group therapy as well as seeing a shrink on occasion. I also started taking Paxil, which hasn’t started doing anything yet except for strange side effects, but I’m giving it time.
I hope you get all the help you need, Turpentine! I also hope your first meeting with a shrink is a great one.
Hiya Heloise. I thought you disappeared.
I am glad you are getting some help, too. Cheers!
Oldscratch- that sound very familiar. I went to IOP years and years ago and it sucked.
It’s tomorrow now.
I am in fine spirits today, so I suppose it went rather well.
My therapist is tiny! She’s only 4’9" or so, and I’m not used to people being shorter than I am. It’s hard to be afraid of someone of that height who spaks in a very charming accent.
She didn’t mention my lunch box at all and we started talking and I wasn’t afraid.
I wish that something interesting had happened so i could tell a better story, but nothing very unusual happened.
I would say it just went well.
Well, I have to say that it was a bit peculiar when I started to hear my plastic dinosaur pounding his fists against the side of the metal lunchbox and yelling, “for the love of God, let me out, the monster women have gauged out my eyes! My eyes! My beautiful face! Oh, the lack of humanity!!”
It was a bit distracting.
I am sorry to report that it was rather dull otherwise and my rectum felt funny when I woke up from hypnosis, but I made up for the dullsville-ness when I went home.
My roommates and i had a salad-throwing contest and then we went out to the thrift store and bought sit n’ spins.
Then we put on Fletch and gave my rat a clitorectomy.
who said you needed therapy? a totally unfounded opinion. everyone has talking lunchbox dwellers…
and hte word you were looking for was “gouging”, i think. unless they really were gauging his eyes. maybe that’s even more worrisome.
glad to hear it went well, and don’t feel bad about being violated by your therapist while under hypnosis. chances are your therapist didn’t do anything at all, and only rented out your, er, hole(s).
