my stupid advice

My stupid advice

Whenever someone is feeling bad about something and I know it’s more than just the “blues”, I often tell them to seek out professional help. But if I took my own advice, where has that gotten me exactly? There are a million therapists out there, all with different degrees and modes of therapy. You often have to see a few to get chemistry with someone for it to be effective. I saw 11 by the time I was 25. And here it is, 16 years later and I might have to see therapist number 14. It’s getting old. I feel that I should be better by now or that I should have at least feel like I “cured” myself by some magic. I read enough about therapy to know what works and what doesn’t. Doesn’t that count for something?

I have seen psychiatrists, social workers, psychologists, and a psychiatric nurse working toward a doctorate. I can’t really say which profession was the best because they all left me before I could form an opinion on the matter and it hurt too bad. But the one that I am in now, the one with a psychologist, worked out pretty good until things just fizzled out. I think I just became too “smart” for her and she couldn’t keep up. She tried for a while until she realized she couldn’t anymore, that it was hindering my therapy. And now what to do?

The thought of starting over isn’t appealing to me. I really don’t want to go through the process. It’s difficult when you are already used to someone. I have read a lot about suicide yet it still eludes me. I want to act on my feelings of it yet I am still here. I know seeing someone new will have a great burden taking me on. I don’t know if they are willing to take that risk. I don’t know if I am either.

Someone I knew a long time ago and still do took my advice and is still alive today because she took it. She is grateful that I saved her life because she listened to me. I remember she was at a crucial period in her life. She was diagnosed as bipolar and at the time, I wrote a lot about the disorder. I told her she needed to see someone and be on meds to help herself. She is still alive because she took that advice. So sometimes, I don’t give out stupid advice. I just wish I could help myself. I have a great psychiatrist but for things to work in my disorder, you also need a therapist. I have yet to find one that is on the same page as me. I am too smart for my own good. And now another therapist is leaving because of it. Some advice giver I am.

About G. Collerone

suicide attempt survivor writing about the hopelessness that accompanies depression that no one likes to talk about. also writing about my daily struggle with chronic pain and how it affects my suicidality
This entry was posted in Bipolar Disorder, blogging, chronic physical pain, depression, mood disorders, suicide and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

One Response to my stupid advice

  1. It seems to me that this therapist bowed out because she became emotionally entangled and could not disentangle herself. She was treading on some very thin ice, losing her boundaries. I was worried because it seemed that she was doing some things that seemed inappropriate, at least from my perspective.

    Losing your therapist really sucks. The prospect of hunting another one is daunting, especially when you’ve had such a long relationship, the present therapist knows pretty much everything about you, and you’ve gone through a lot of traumas together. I don’t envy your dilemma at all! But….please do not take this on yourself. It’s not your job to be a certain type of person for your therapists. It’s their job to be there for you. Granted, there are times when the relationship comes to an end, and sometimes it is because a patient’s complexity exceeds the therapist’s ability. That doesn’t mean it’s your fault. It just IS. Without judgment.

    You’re a very cool person, G. You’re incredibly intelligent and educated. You probably have more education on many topics than most psychologist-types. That’s going to threaten some of them, but that’s THEIR bad, not yours.

    You just keep on keeping on, and write these words on the insides of your eyelids:

    I AM WHO I AM AND THAT’S FINE

    (Tip of the hat to Popeye the Sailor Man, toot-toot!)

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