hard times: the emergency room

I need to mention this so I can talk about it, because it was one of those surreal experiences my heart wants to dissect in a million different ways, but I’ve been waiting until I can look back on it from a positive place.

Monday was my therapist appointment with the new therapist, but Sunday night and Monday morning was when I found out more about the undergrad John had a crush on who kind of kicked off all of his doubts and his midlife crisis type thing. While he didn’t cross any physical lines and didn’t engage with her romantically as far as I can tell, they did have really inappropriate flirty/sexual conversations. They also hung out more (and differently) than he’d let on — I’d thought he was just tutoring her, but their meetings weren’t all academic. He seemed hugely affected by this interaction with this girl.

To say I was a mess is a huge understatement. I felt old, ugly, worthless. If he knew he could get girls like that, why would he want me? And since he’s already been wondering aloud if he stayed with me during the hard times in the past because of a dysfunctional need to take care of me, what if he realizes that’s the only reason he’s here now?  My abandonment meter was just going bonkers.

I showed up in my therapist’s office with unwashed hair, no makeup, no bra, no forms. I sat down trying to hold my I’m-a-sane-person look together (uh, good luck?) but just immediately started sobbing, because I had to say, “I don’t know if I should be here or if this is an emergency and I need to go to the hospital. So I might need your help figuring that out.”

(possible triggering information behind the jump to the rest of this post: mentions of self-harm, suicide, etc.)

doctor deville: my first therapy fail

I’ve been to a few therapists before and have always had a good experience. This was before I knew to label myself as having borderline personality disorder, however. Since then, I’ve been to one therapist, Dr. Deville, whose treatment confused me. I’m just joking when I call it a “fail,” but it was a decidedly poor experience.

I’ve tried to see two more who developed mysterious monthlong vacations upon learning I had borderline personality disorder. I’m unfortunately not kidding. Who knows — maybe these ladies really were going on vacation. But I’m beginning to feel like I forgot to put on my deodorant or something.

As I continue my search for a therapist (without the borderline label, given my experiences thus far), I thought I’d share with you what caused my discomfort about Dr. Deville. I don’t know about you, but having BPD has led me to doubt every thought and feeling that comes through my head. And so if you’re wondering if your therapist just isn’t a good fit or if it’s just you, I’d like to be able to encourage you to follow your instincts. Here’s what happened to me: