There's such a pattern to these inappropriate, unhelpful comments. I've heard most of them, too. :stupid:
My personal peeves are the people who tell me to "think positive" (as if that idea hadn't occurred to me in the years I've been battling this, and as if this is something I can just will myself out of). I also find it's a fine line to walk for the people who know I'm in therapy. I want them to acknowledge it a bit, but not attempt to dig into the details of any given session. Concerned is fine; nosey as can be isn't.
One of the worst things that's been said to me was by an ex therapist. I was assaulted by a very public figure in a foreign country and sought therapy there. The therapist was a Western expatriate who claimed to have expertise in trauma and promised to maintain my privacy. After a couple sessions, I was told repeatedly that my sessions would be more therapeutic if I'd divulge the name of my perp. I held back for a time, but the pressure continued. The therapist even said "you can trust me." So one day I blurted it out, and darned if the therapist didn't immediately run around like the town crier trading on my misery and betraying my trust and confidentiality. :mad: Secondary wounding is the pits, especially when it's coming from someone who presumably knows better.
In fact, I'm very distressed in reading this thread by the number of people who have been hurt by their therapists. This just shouldn't be. :eek: I'm hoping there's a special place in hell reserved for my ex therapist. (I am only slightly joking.)
On the other side of the coin, there are the things that go unsaid. Never an honest acknowledgement of what transpired from the perp (who was someone I'd known for years), let alone a sincere apology. There were many witnesses to my assault, and not one came to my aid or showed a scintilla of concern or human kindness for me in the aftermath. Basic decency would've dictated some response, even if it was only to check in with me later to ask if I was OK. (I wasn't. But my agony would've been greatly reduced had people, even just one person, stepped up and redeemed my faith in humanity.)
Also, I have been loathe to share with others that I have PTSD. Even so, among the few people I've told, some have immediately dropped out, as though it's contagious. One learns who the true friends are through this, and sometimes that's a painful lesson.
