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Responses To Your Therapist That You Will Probably Never Say

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Therapist: "You seem to be feeling better this week."

Me: "Looks can be deceiving."

Seriously, guys, I doubt I'm the only one. I wall myself up mentally and seem fine on the outside while I'm actually losing my mind on the inside. I'm working on not doing this, and I suppose I need to teach my therapist to know the difference between feigned happiness and true happiness. Granted, I've spent my life with these walls so I may not actually know the difference.
 
One of my triggers is men with beards. Needless to say the holidays are not my friend.

T: So are you excited about Christmas
M: Oh yeah trilled. I love having cards that send me into flashbacks of my childhood shoved into my face with a person standing there just waiting to be offended when I start crying.
 
My therapist a long time ago had a bad lazy eye. He came out into the waiting room and motioned for someone in my direction to come here.

M: Me?
T: There's no one else here...

I felt bad for not realizing, but wanted to say:
"I have a name, you know. It's not like I've been seeing you for the past year."

I have a new therapist now and he does EMDR. I actually had sessions with him YEARS ago before I was diagnosed with PTSD. After he taps in EMDR:
T: What did you notice?
M: That I'm utterly hopeless. Give up while you can.
 
T: What did you notice?
M: That I'm utterly hopeless. Give up while you can.
:D Oh! I do actually tell my therapist frequently during EMDR(in the beginning that is), when he asks that, the same thing over and over again: "Nothing! Nothing is happening, this doesn't work, I want to quit!" or "Give up, it's not working!" :D (That's how it feels every time: and every time I resist it, and don't want to do it, and really feel like it's bullshit and not working.. - Even though I know it does.)

One time I said that nothing happened, and that it was useless, and that I didn't "feel anything at all, nothing is happening", my therapist looked at me above his glasses and asked me: "If nothing is happening what are you doing with your body?" - I was clinging to the armrest of the armchair, and was halfway over it(climbing over it), but not being aware of it my self.. :D
 
That I'm not sure I'll ever get to the point where I feel I deserve to feel okay with myself. That the things that happened to me will always seem matter of fact to me and not damaging, despite the horror I feel at times with myself.
 
What was actually said:
T: It will be difficult to think about our ending, given that this is a time-limited therapy.
M: Time-limited? What do you mean? This is only the fourth session or something! (Utter terror lurking inside me)
T: Well, I told you at the start-
M: Yes, but how many sessions do I have left?
T: You have at least two sessions left and-

Cue complete zoning out of the room. No idea where I went. I obviously stopped listening and eventually I was crying, saying how much I want to go home and so I did. This is where the honesty part of therapy comes in; I explained this to her at the next session, along the lines of "Not really sure what the point of this is, just when I felt like I could maybe begin to share stuff, you sneak attack the end of therapy with no warning", and it turns out I had missed the whole point of her sentence. Two sessions more on that part of therapy, it isn't suddenly going to end. Phew!

What I wished I had said in response:
M: Oh stuff the NHS with their time-limited therapy; their slogan should be We will make you wait as long as we want for therapy, 3 years pehaps, while your body slowly disentegrates and the relationships and success you had managed to maintain all disappears. You said six months until I will see you to start therapy, Miss Psychologist Lady, and I may be bad at maths, but I know that 2010 and 2012 are not the same years. Because you lied about that, everything you say to me will be questioned.

Hindsight is a wonderful thing. I strive to be honest with her before the support gets taken away :eek:.
 
The evolution of a short six session therapy, a short story.

First session:
T: How are you?
M: I'm fine.

Second session:
T: How are you?
M: I'm ok I suppose.

Third session:
T: How are you?
M: I'm not doing so great, I feel awful. I'm not eating or sleeping. My life is a complete disaster. I have no direction and the past haunts me. I keep having horrifying visions, nightmares, a racing heart, and the list just carries on. I mean, how am I is such a difficult question to answer.

(In between sessions I realise she has seen a part of my insides; oh no, the barriers I have put up are starting to crumble)

Fourth, fifth and final session:

T: How are you?
M: I'm fine.

;).
 
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