Therapist’s choice or fear?

Therapist’s choice or fear?

My therapist of sixteen years had decided sometime while on our three week break that she couldn’t work with me anymore for what reasons are still not quite clear. We had been arguing over various things the last several months, including my suicidality and it was becoming apparent that she refused to seek the given evidence based practices I was telling her about to deal with my suicidality. I was becoming more and more frustrated and wrote a blog about it that “opened her eyes”. Our engagement ended in February of this year. I was gutted. I had no choice but to end things with her if she had no idea how to work with me any more. So the hunt for a new therapist began, once I could manage it.

It is very difficult to find someone willing to work with a high risk suicidal patient, such as myself. When my therapist moved to her office thirty miles away and I had no means of getting there, I called ten therapists in a five mile radius of my house. I kept getting the run around. I couldn’t be seen by them because I was high risk and so they referred me to someone else. That someone else then referred me to someone else. I became distraught and just stayed with my therapist event though it meant more phone sessions and text messages.

Now I had the same problem, except I had no back up. There was no one. I had asked some therapist friends on Twitter in my area if they knew anyone seeking new clients. One responded and gave me a name. That therapist never returned my calls. After three weeks (one call a week), I gave up and moved to therapist number two. Same deal. It took me until April to find someone that a) took my insurance and b) wasn’t afraid of suicide. I’ve been seeing this guy for about three months now and it is getting obvious to me that we just aren’t clicking. You need a certain chemistry to work with someone is this guy is lacking. I thought I could work with him but he is my back up right now. I am looking for someone else.

The day that I had my first meeting with him back in April, two therapists returned my phone calls. One had taken three weeks to call me back so I was not in a rush to call her back even though her qualifications seemed like it would match what I was looking for. The other organization I didn’t know too much about but knew they offered CBT, a therapy modality known to work with some people but didn’t for me. I kindly told them I was not looking at this time but if that changed (I hadn’t met the guy yet so it could be possible not to work out), I’d be in touch.

So when I was hospitalized a few weeks ago and my current therapist told the social worker that I was there because of “family conflict” instead of a psychotic episode that happened that weekend, I got pissed off and realized I wasn’t going to waste 16 years with this guy to know it was wrong. I called the other therapist and she never called me back. Then I got in touch with the organization. I had a phone interview with them last week. He first went over my insurance as he didn’t take one of them. OK, but he took the other so I was okay with that. Then we talked about clinical stuff. He asked when was the last time I was hospitalized and I truthfully told him a few weeks ago. He ended the conversation saying his group would be unable to help me as I needed “intensive outpatient” treatment after a hospitalization. He basically said I was “too sick” to work with one of his therapists.

I was floored this happens in 2017. I have been studying suicidology since 2007, reading countless articles about how clinicians, particularly psychiatrists, are more prone to have a suicide during their career than any other profession. Psychologists are second to that. Yet despite the advancements in evidence based practices (EBP), there is still the fear of losing someone to suicide. I can’t make that go away and if I ever become a therapist, I too will have that fear. But there are measures you can take to decrease that risk in the high risk client, if there is a willingness to work with one. That opportunity is lost if you slam the door like countless therapists have done to me. Suicide is inherent in any psychotherapy, regardless of risk factors. It can “appear out of the blue” or not noticed until an attempt is made or a death occurs. The suicide rate keeps climbing. And one of these days, I will become part of that yearly statistic.

I look for help and get denied because of my risk factors, which are history of previous attempts, history of abuse, history of hospitalizations, and history of self harm. These factors I deem “high risk” can also be viewed as severe mental illness or “being too sick”. It was the director of the organization’s choice not to take me on as a client. Pissed me off but his choice regardless. But was it also his fear that I would take on a certain liability because I was chronically suicidal and mentally ill? I will never know but my gut says fear altered his choice. I understand that therapist want to have the kind of practice where things go smoothly and stuff like suicide is dusted under the rug. Suicide is a dirty word. I get that. I have lived it since I was eight, when I first thought of ending my life. No one wants to touch it with a ten foot pole. But excluding these people from these practices, what the hell did you enter the field for?? I have to wonder.

The therapist I work with now doesn’t follow a lick of EBP. I still don’t know what kind of therapist he is. Frankly, he just lets me ramble for 45 mins then it’s see you next week. He has explained what he does but he has yet to actually do it, which is why I want to see someone else, if I can find that person. I live in the hub of academia where there are thousands of therapists. The biggest problem I come across, other than their fear of suicide, is not taking new clients. OK. I get it but can you refer me to someone who IS taking them? No answer or try Susie Q who isn’t within my area of accessibility.

Anyways, these are my thoughts on the matter. Getting screwed by those that are supposed to help mental health patients but don’t want to deal with mental health patients that fit a certain criteria. I think that sums it up nicely.

busy Monday morning

Busy Monday morning

I had a shitty sleep. I fell asleep sometime after 0200 only to wake up around 6 because my foot was in severe pain. I took my pain meds and slept until my alarm went off. I didn’t want to get up but I had to be at the dentist office by 0800. I dragged myself out of bed, got dressed, brushed my teeth, and headed out. I had to wait until the dentist was available to see me. He said that I had severe inflammation of the gums but wasn’t too sure what was causing it. He wanted it to go down and for me to finish my antibiotics before taking x-rays.

I left in time to catch the bus to the Square. While I was waiting, I called my PCP’s office to see if my prescription was ready to be picked up. It was. I had breakfast at Starbucks. I ordered a snickers latte rather than espresso. I felt like treating myself to something good. I had 6 espresso shots. It was stronger than I thought it would be but still good. I went to my PCP’s office after I finished and then went to the pharmacy. My foot was in severe pain by the time I came home. I hadn’t taken any pain meds with me and the last time I had taken them was around 6 this morning. I was overdue. My foot was also on fire so when I came home, I took my pain meds and Neurontin. I also rinse my mouth out with the antibacterial rinse. It doesn’t go well with powerade but I can’t take the Neurontin with water because it is gross. Guess it was the lesser evil.

I wanted to get my meat sauce for supper but my mother is making lazy man lasagna. I will save it for another day. It’s not going anywhere. I have been wanting to have it with penne pasta for a while now. I haven’t had lunch yet. I will finish off the White Castle burgers. That should tie me over until supper time.

I am going to try and stay up but I have a feeling I am going to take a nap. I am really tired from all that I did this morning. I was out for 4 hours. I am glad I don’t have therapy this afternoon. It would suck. My mood sucks right now. I am just exhausted from hurting and not sleeping. I am so tired of waking up in severe pain. It’s really mentally exhausting. The hard part is that I have absolutely no control over it. It flares up whenever it wants to whether I am sleeping, trying to sleep, or just plain resting.

My fricken bowels are going nuts. Whenever I have Starbucks milk, it seems I am intolerant to it. I don’t fricken care because I have been backed up the last few days but the cramps are horrible. I just hope I don’t have an accident because that will kill me. I also hate having to go up and down the stairs a lot because of it. I so wish there was a half bath where the bedrooms are.

I’m trying to make plans with a friend that I met while in the hospital. Every time I ask when to meet up, she is vague or doesn’t answer. I really don’t want to go out tomorrow, except to Walgreens because idiot me forgot my strong pain pill script to get filled today. I had it on the edge of my bed so I wouldn’t forget it but I did. I also need to mail a birthday card for a friend of mine. Maybe I will get some pizza when I drop off the card to the mailbox, though I have been thinking of getting a pastrami sub lately. I love pastrami.

One of my blog readers suggested I get input for the blog about therapists who shaft clients for the suicidality or hospitalization history. If you would like to contribute, please email me at Collerone at Yahoo dot com or use my contact page to send me a message. I’m still mulling over ideas for it so you have time to also contribute if you would like. Please get it in by this week though. I’d like to write it up by the weekend. I think it’s important to get the word out that there are therapists and organizations out there that just don’t want to deal with severe mental illnesses.

ramblings 355

Ramblings 355

My brother in law made some shrimp scampi and I had some. I really shouldn’t have but it was good and I over ate. I really wanted to stay up till 2100 but I couldn’t. I ended up going to sleep around 2030. I had to take my antibiotic so I didn’t sleep too well. Around 2300, the light in the hallway was on. I figured my mother had gone downstairs to use the bathroom. I listened carefully but didn’t hear anything. Then I started thinking the worse and that woke me up. I took my antibiotic and then went downstairs to see if she was okay. She was. She had watched a movie and then decided to empty the dishwasher.

I used the bathroom and then tortured my mouth again by brushing and using the rinse. My gums are starting to feel better but brushing my teeth is still kind of sore. I’m glad my gums aren’t bleeding anymore. I went back up to my room and I was awake. I couldn’t go back to sleep. Then my ankle started acting up. I took my pain meds with some water. I hope my prescription is ready to be picked up tomorrow because I only have a few pain meds left. Damn medical assistant got my strong pain med and regular one mixed up. She thought it was the same thing. Oi. Dumbass. It’s like saying Amoxicillin and Penicillin are the same thing. Sure, they are the same class of meds but they work differently. I don’t get it. I thought you had to pass a pharmacology course to be a medical assistant. I guess they don’t stress that anymore.

After I see the dentist tomorrow, I will call my PCP’s office to see if my script is ready to be picked up. If I have to camp my ass in the office to get it done, I will. I can’t be without my pain meds. That will just not be good.

I had slept for most of the day because I was up most of the night. Now it seems like I will be up most of the night again. I am just not tired because my mother freaked me out and gave me a scare. I don’t know why she emptied the dishwasher at 2300. She sounded okay so she wasn’t in a hypoglycemic (low blood sugar) state. She does weird things. I am just glad she is sleeping now. She can sleep at the drop of a hat. I can’t. It takes a long while for me to get to sleep.

One of my Twitter friends suggested that I write a blog about how therapists are picky about the clients they choose. He said it would be a powerful blog. I have been thinking about it but I really don’t know where to start. I have seen so many therapists over the years but none of them have rejected me because of my suicidality or hospitalizations. It’s trying to find a new therapist that is the problem. I will write it, eventually. I have a lot to say on the matter as I am pissed off about not being able to find someone for the reasons I stated. Makes me really wonder why they chose clinical mental health and not some academic position. Makes no sense.

never ending. It just goes on and on

Never ending. It just goes on and on

I’m trying to settle down for sleep but a new pain keeps popping up when I lie down, when I sit up, when I take my meds, when I move it, etc. It is fucking never ending. I am not doing a damn thing tomorrow, least that is the plan for now.

I sent an email to my psychiatrist asking her if I was a difficult patient. I briefly discussed my therapy session with my therapist and that the therapy group down the hall from him contacted me. Unfortunately, it got filtered to my junk mail so I didn’t get it until I got home. My phone doesn’t get junk mail for they could be viruses embedded in what they send. Last thing I need is a virus on my phone.

I just sent an email to my neurologist asking her if she could help me out by confirming that I do indeed have CRPS as my PCP just wants to pass me off to another doctor. I am tired of seeing new doctors who aren’t helpful and then just want to pass me off or not treat/see me anymore. I see my neuro in two weeks. It was kind of a long email but I don’t care. My stupid phone kept on inserting different words as I typed, which annoyed the crap out of me. I should have just typed it on my laptop so I wouldn’t get aggravated. Lesson learned.

My foot feels like it is being strangled. There is such a pressure on it like it’s going to burst. I am so tired that I am reaching the over tired stage, which is dangerous because I could catch my second wind and then be up all night. I took an Ativan because along with the strangulation, my ankle is pulsating. The little muscles are twitching. This condition is so frustrating because there is never ending different kinds of pain. I wish I could see a doctor at this hour so they can see or I can try to explain to them what living with this condition is like. All I can do is send them an email and then not get a response. But at least by writing it out, it helps me because at least I have documentation that I wrote this to a doctor.

I still am shocked that in the great medical hub of Boston, I have not found a doctor that is willing to help me. Sure, my PCP gives me pain meds to alleviate my pain. I appreciate that. But he doesn’t want to stop there. Right now my diagnosis is in the air and it is making everything seem like we haven’t tried enough. I am tired of this merry go round. I want off. I asked my neuro if she could possible give me a concrete diagnosis and staple it on my PCP’s head. Well, I didn’t say that. But if she could send a note to him saying I have this dreaded condition, then maybe I don’t have to see yet another new doc. There is no treatment for this condition. I know this. My PCP knows this, my neuro knows this. But opioids help me and if I don’t have them, I am good as dead. I have exhausted physical therapy. I have tried injections. I have tried rest. This is no longer a case of tendonitis. It is deeper than that.

The pain is changing all the fucking time, all over my ankle, foot, toes, bones. It hurts every where. Normally, at this hour, I would be writing a morbid story about ending my life. That is what this blog was about. My suicidal thoughts in the cybersphere. But then one day someone took it too far and called the cops on me so I no longer talk about those things, even though it relieves the tendencies to act. Thoughts are NOT the same as feelings. And feelings does not mean act upon them. It is okay to feel. It is ok to think. Here is a quote from the father of suicidology, Edwin Shneidman that I had the pleasure of talking to him before he died.

“Never kill yourself while you are suicidal. You can, if you must, think about suicide as much as your wishes and let the thoughts of suicide –the possibility that you could do it- carry you through the dark night. Night after night. Day after day, until the thoughts of self-destruction runs its course and a fresh view of your own frustrated needs comes into clearer form in your mind and you can, at last, pursue the realistic aspects, however dire, of your natural life”. –Edwin Shneidman, Suicidal Mind, p166

I write these blogs because I still am struggling night after night, day after day. Pain increases my vulnerability to think of self-destruction. I have the means though no one talks about restricting them. I told my psychiatrist I have something that will end my life but still, she doesn’t ask about it when I see her. She never does. Poor assessment of risks. So does my therapist who knows damn well that I have chronic suicidal thoughts. It makes me angry that I am not treated the way I was with my former therapist, Bozo. She was annoying, I will give her that, but she fucking cared and if I had a method she damn well tried to take it away from me the best she could. I really miss her. Yesterday was her birthday. I wonder if I will be alive to see mine. I really am surprised that you CAN get anything off of Amazon. While I was searching for my method, they had machetes. Machetes!! I don’t think I would have the will power to use it to chop my ankle off but I know a chainsaw would do the job. I refuse to search for it because I know in my darkest of moments, I may just buy it. I’ll go all Scarface on my ankle and groin to sever my artery.

I am once again plagued by dark thoughts. All because I can’t sleep and I am in pain that is never ending. It just goes on and on.