Saturday, 21 November 2009

The Therapist is OUT

I went in to my local doctor the other week, to get a referral to see a therapist. I had to tell him what was wrong with me. Before I went in I almost had a panic attack. Which was funny, considering I was there for my anxiety issues. The receptionist made a joke about me not sitting down, and I laughed and told her I had to hold the wall up. Earlier that morning I was listening to John Mayer on Nova FM, he has been in Australia and was getting interviewed. He was funny, saying that before he died he wanted to release a pop song, have people dance to it in clubs.

"So, I can be at home, playing with myself and watching sports while people get off to my pop song."

The people at Nova used all of his sound bites and made up this faux pop song, and played it. "Playin' with myself and watchin' sports ... sports ... sports ..."

So this was the song rattling around my head when I sat in my doctors office trying to tell him that I was falling apart for a while now, and now my whole family were looking at me strangely. I didn't want to tell him. Wished I could just pull up my shirt and show him inside my heart. I wondered what he would see? A withered teeny sapling? A furnace of hate and fear? A burning skull? All I could think was "Playin' with myself and watchin' sports." And had to stifle my laugh at the absurdity.

A few days after, I had my first therapy appointment. 10 minutes before I went, I rang my sister and she put me on loudspeaker because she was with my other sister. We laughed our usual mania, as I told them that going to see a therapist for the first time is like a first date - a really fucked up first date where you tell someone everything, all the crap and mire. Like, an anti-date.

I drove there, parked the car, and knocked on the door. She opened it, to a house that stank of dog. BAD. I walked through to her office, and as soon as she told me where to sit, I knew this was not going to work out. Great. How the hell was I suppose to break up with a therapist on the first date, before therapy had even occurred? And it wasn't just the dog smell, or her sternly pointing to where I should sit. It was the look that fluttered across her eyes when she saw my tattoos and black toenail polish. The same look I probably had when I studied her stern bun of frizzy hair kept up with hairspray and sensible cardigan. It felt like I needed to teach her how to have an orgasm.

We muddled through a few things. She didn't seem to know quite what to do with me, rummaging around her folders for printouts on stress relief techniques. When she started to explain what the word "just" meant, in the English language, I couldn't help it and started smirking. She looked straight up, annoyed, and said, "What? What is going on right now?"

I told her I did not feel comfortable; she could not have rushed me out of her office fast enough. We were like two Mr Beans, fumbling around each other together. Polar opposites. I think we both scared each other.

So, it's off to a new one next week, hopefully not a bun in sight. I need a therapist I can say "fuck" to, someone who does not have yellow walls with no pictures.


The last few days I have been thinking and praying for Anissa Mayhew and her family. I just read this post from her husband Peter. If you are the praying kind, please spare your thoughts for her recovery. And if you aren't the praying kind, they need your prayers even more. God always listens more intently to new voices, because obviously it's something very important.


Rocco turned 18 months old this week. For some reason, it seems more of a milestone than when he turned one. He brings me joy. I'm starting to feel more and more grateful every day, for every moment I have.

About fucking time.


  1. I am glad you posted. I was actually going to email you tonight to see if you were doing okay.

    Yes, you most definitely need a therapist you can say fuck to. Any other kind, simply would not be of any use to you :)

    I hopped over to the blog you linked....soooo sad. 35. These are the things in life that make me question SO MANY other things.

  2. Therapy is like dating. Dating where you sleep together on the first date. I have seen a lot of therapist over the years, and only two were ever good.
    I say sleep around until you find one you like.

  3. I moved over a year ago, and TRIED SO HARD to find a therapist.

    It didn't work.

    I now have phone appointments with my shrink. I just missed her too much, she is never late, and no one tries to convert me in the waiting room.

    I am always here if you need me!

    The Anissa heartbreaking...but at the same time, I have never seen anything like what has happened on the web. Amazing community.

    Love you lady!

  4. I went through FOUR before I found one that didn't give me the heebie jeebs. Why are therapists such a weird bunch?????????
    Thinking of you always, and can't wait to see like a year. Wait, 9 months!!! Thats not so bad!!!!

  5. If you were in Chicago, I'd point you to a few good therapists...or you could just come see me and we'd compare tattoos and all sorts of other fun stuff! Therapists are a strange bunch, but I promise there's a few good seeds out there. Good luck. You're amazing for stickin your neck out there and seeking out help and now having to do a second take on the whole thing. Can't wait to see how the second take for therapy goes!

  6. That lady sounds like a freaky therapist. I hope you find one that works for you. Having tried and failed a few times I understand how difficult it can be.

  7. your time probably would have been better spent teaching her about that orgasm.

    I wonder if you're right about god listening to new voices. I like that idea.

  8. Isn't it weird when you have to go in blind to tell someone things that are so personal. It's almost like if they each had a personal video so you could watch and get a feel for them before you sign up and pay out it would be so much easier.

    Keep your chin up and legs open!
    Love ya girl!

  9. I had a therapist I didn't like, couldn't gel with, who I thought was no good at her job ... but you know, in the long run, I came to understand she was right for me, even though I was always on the brink of dropping her. Some say it's a deeper therapy when shared with someone we don't put through a whole lot of our "date-like" criteria. The therapy kicks-in when the person we've decided is "right" starts to unravel our knots, and encourages us to break our patterns. It's not supposed to be a marriage.

  10. Wish you could come to Canada to see my therapist. I say fuck, she says fuck, here a fuck, there a fuck, everywhere a fuck fuck... You'd love her. She's heard some shit, let me tell you.

    But the one before her... I wanted to punch in the face.

    Happy 18 months to Rocco.

  11. I hate therapist shopping. Really, I do. Nothing like trying to lay it all out on the line while trying to find someone who might actually understand you.


    I hope the next one is better.

  12. I'm with Aunt Becky... therapist shopping sucks!! I like how you compared it to a really screwed up first date, only when you are in recovery and you go on that first date with someone new and you haven't quite learned boundaries yet... that is exactly what it is like. You just throw everything out there not realizing how crazy it sounds until you can't take it back.

    Hope the next one is better.

  13. "It felt like I needed to teach her how to have an orgasm."

    I LOL @ this. I hope you find someone who sucks less soon.

  14. Anon, I know it's not supposed to be a marriage. If it weren't for a particular therapist in my life ten years ago, I wouldn't be here today. It sucked - I hated it at the time.

    But this particular woman last week was a shocker. She spent the first 10 minutes talking to me about her money woes, entirely strange and inappropriate. She came highly recommended, so obviously she helps some people. Just not me.

  15. Glad you ditched the therapist. She shouldn't tell you where to sit for goodness sake, what was that all about? My therapist has frizzy hair but I feel like I could say anything to her.

    Loving your posts, how do you write about your life and still make it sound funny? I just feel like a little whining voice but you take all sorts of situations and it feels like a fascinating trip with the odd guffaw thrown in, I love it.

  16. God, I was just talking about the "D" word last week with a friend who is at the end of her third IVF (first IVF was sucessful and her son is a few months older than Dylan) ... maybe her last attempt (not a fun place to be) ... and I was just saying what a marathon frog-kissing contest therapist shopping can be. It's exhusting. Especially when depression doesn't exactly put you in that "Climb Every Mountain," Can Do frame of mind.

    I had one really, really bad experience with a couples therapist. I remember talking to my individual therapist about it at the time ... and now that you mention good-fit/bad-fit ... I do recall her saying that I would need a particular kind of personality for the right fit. This therapist knew me very well. She really seemed to make a strong point of expressing some concern that not just anyone would do. I should have asked her to elaborate.

    Yea, fit is tricky. I'm sure your instincts are good. I'm sorry it's so damn hard to get what you need, eh?



  17. Eden, how the hell did Rocco get so big?
    I want to mush his face.

    If a therapist is wrong, they are just wrong. Find a new one. They can do wonders.

  18. Not every therapist is skilled, or skilled enough. Chatting about her money woes is a big no-no for a therapist. The focus should be on your problems, not hers. WTF.


Write to be understood, speak to be heard. - Lawrence Powell

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