After gathering up all my courage and finding a therapist to talk to, 3 sessions later I was feeling optimistic. Talking is not my thing. I am not a talker. I’m an emotion eater. I’m a feeling swallower. I eat my feelings until they give me IBS symptoms or insomnia. True story.
I decided now that I’m 41 and it’s time to evolve. I started to feel like I’m bottling things up again and I decided to not go back on Citalopram yet but to try to talk them out. Even though talking about what goes on in my head makes me feel so vulnerable and weird and awkward. But – I’m making baby step progress with the therapist, meaning some things have been unbottled which is always the first step in the progress. As a result I’ve also had some good talks with my husband to further talk through some things so all’s well.
Or all was well until last Sunday.
Last Sunday I received an email that said:
Therapist G who contacted you through our network has informed us that they won’t be seeing you for assessment/therapy. If you would like to contact a different therapist, please let us know.
Kind regards, x
I read that email and I felt like I was falling into an endless hole while my head was about to explode with enormous pressure coming from somewhere inside.
I had forgotten how much getting dumped sucks. How it actually physically hurts. I’ve only been dumped 4 times in my life and I think that’s pretty lucky but I now remember again so vividly how much it hurts.
This felt everything like getting dumped. Getting dumped by somebody you’ve opened up to big time. You’ve exposed your vulnerable self and they thought – hmmm, no, this person’s too messed up for me, I don’t want to deal with it.
Even when I type this almost a week later I feel my head starting to hurt again.
I didn’t blurt out WHO THE FUCK DOES THAT?!?!?! when reading the email because my husband had a big job thing the next day and I didn’t want to dump this on him.
In my head though I was screaming just that for a good half an hour.
Then I went and popped a Citalopram tablet. I was done with talking. Fuck talking. I was going to go back on Citalopram, go talk to my GP on Monday to get a new prescription & just battle on by myself like I had been.
A few days later I was no longer raging inside. But then I received a reply to my email from the shrink-network:
We are not able to let you know yet why your therapy was discontinued. Your therapist is on holidays this week and it could be that this is just a miscommunication, she might just be unavailable until she is back from holidays.
That’s me internally screaming again.
FOR FUCK’S SAKE, WHAT IS HAPPENING??? Did she dump me or not??
At this point I don’t know. I’m waiting for a reply.
I had already started to hate my therapist. Now it could be that somebody else cocked up. Total mindfuck!!
And sorry for all the swearing. I actually swear a lot in real life. Not something in proud of & not something I should be doing in front of my kids but sometimes the only way I know how not to bottle up my feelings is to scream FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK!!!!!
So that’s been my week. How’s your week been? ;)