Therapy: The Good, The Bad, The Ugly (Patreon)

There was a period of over a year where I was seeing a good therapist. She helped me to deconstruct some emotional barriers I didn't know I had. She helped me broaden my vocabulary when talking about my feelings with friends and family. She was on my side, but questioned me if I became too negative. She listened, and sometimes that was enough.

But then she got a second job. Our appointments had to be scheduled later and later, and twice she began falling asleep during our sessions. I avoided seeing her for months. It was getting to the point where scheduling an appointment felt like haggling. And when finally I brought up how - distracting - it was to have her fall asleep on me she offered me two free sessions. Which at first felt fair, but then felt weird.

I eventually just stopped seeing her. And soon began what would become an entire year's worth of monthly mental breakdowns.

February 2017 I knew that I had two options: I could see another therapist or I could admit myself to a hospital. I was desperate. 

Luckily I was taken in by a rather glamorous therapist (the kind who is selective about their clientele) and for three sessions it was OK. But on my fourth session she asked "what are pronouns?" and I realized I had brought up being Transgender in every session without her understanding what that implied.

Months passed, and I thought maybe a Psychiatrist would make more sense. I arranged to see one through my old Primary Care Physician. She was a Medical Student undergoing her residency and she was clearly anxious. She didn't seem to listen to me so much as look at me with pity, and by the end of an incredibly awkward 30 minute session she prescribed three kinds of drugs, one of which would be needed to counteract the negative side effects of the other. I walked out, dismayed.

I started reading more about ADHD and the more I read the more I saw myself in the writing. But every source I read said that the first thing to do was to get a diagnosis from a professional. I had been diagnosed twice before as a child. Neither diagnosis had been my idea, so I felt a third and final diagnosis that I initiated would feel healthy.

I had an exchange with one therapist who referred to a Licensed Clinical Psychologist. When I saw him I felt that same sense of "pity without listening" and he diagnosed me with Anxiety and said ADHD is hard to diagnose before billing me $200 for my initial consultation.

Reeling from this I sought out a Psychologist that actually specialized in ADHD. The first was creepy, and sent me text messages in response to an email. The kind of texts without periods, punctuation, capitalization.

The second one (that I ended up seeing) saw me two times before I underwent official testing. During those sessions he asked about my genitals when I came out as Transgender (in the casual way only cisgender people can pull off). He then accredited my wife being better at Math than me because she was Asian.

...I ended up with an official diagnosis of ADHD. But not from someone I trusted.

That year I had spent over $1000 on these people.

When I made the decision to help myself for a change it was pretty revolutionary. My methods were unorthodox. I've seen plenty of polite-but-questioning stares. But results are results. I was sleeping, I stopped having manic episodes, I found myself feeling something close to normal again.

This year we've probably doubled that amount in the first three months. My big "wakeup call" was in February when I sent to the Emergency Room after a week long panic attack.

My family tells me I did the right thing in ruling out all of the other possible heart/chest ailments but I can't help but feel embarrassed that none of those expensive tests were necessary.

And so at the end of the day the doctor's looked to me and said "You should consider seeing a therapist."

I called the number they gave me and the earliest intake appointment is in June, if you can believe that.

This means I can call back and make a polite fuss until I get what I want (this is actually doable in the medical industry) or I can roll the dice again with a private practice, and pay out of pocket.

I just remember how quick I was to recommend therapy when I had a good therapist. But the reality is, it's costly. Especially so if you don't receive adequate therapy.

The good news is I'm reading my book on Mindful Self Compassion in earnest, and meditating every day. It's a good book - I'll post a picture of the cover below.

I feel optimistic about going into therapy again. But only because I've received enough shitty care to spot the crap before it hits the fan.