Happiness, it turns out, is fucking chore.
After all that talk last week about how helpful, informative, and eye-opening my therapist was, it turns out that he may not be a good fit after all. I very well know that finding the right therapist takes time and multiple tries, but I mean… I have never gotten anywhere NEAR the right therapist. The process, and starting it over and over again, is too much for my fragile, sick brain.
Ultimately, I think I’m confused about my lack of luck in finding one. I don’t feel like I have abnormal issues-- there are millions of people in the world that have shitty parents, have depression, and feel worthless. I mean, I feel like if I had multiple personalities, it’d be a bit more difficult, right? Do you have to find a psychologist that all of the personalities like and trust?
And it’s never just that it’s “not a right fit”-- I always seem to get told really bizarre things, hurtful things, or stuff that just doesn’t make sense.
My first therapist literally told me to shut up.
My second, knowing that I had crippling self-esteem and worth issues, told me that I was obnoxious.
My third always took my mom’s side, and because she put on this “I am the perfect mom” act whenever we saw him, he thought I was a liar. He also told me to stop being friends with my best friend at the time, and while my relationship with him was far from healthy and definitely toxic, I was suicidal at the time. Maybe I shouldn’t get rid of the one thing that was keeping me from killing myself, y’know?
On and on, until yesterday, when my current therapist suggested that I talk to my dad “a little” after literally just calling him abusive last week (AND asking me if I thought he was bipolar, which like… dude, wouldn’t YOU know better than me?). This was on top of telling me, even though I had already explained how I’m finding trouble finding hope for myself/my life, that I shouldn’t be concerned that my family is still able to cause me distress/pain because there are people in their 80s and 90s that are still affected by their family’s behavior.
Not helping, doc.
The worst of it was when I was explaining that I had actively tried to shape myself in the opposite way of my parents-- that I used them as sort of an example of what NOT to do, rather than as role models. I told him that I would never want to end up as unhappy as they are.
“But here you are, also unhappy.”
I am TRYING.
It’s not like I WANT to be this way (as opposed to my mom, who seems to make decisions just to remain as unhappy as possible). It’s not like I’M the one who took away the things that were making me happy, the person that was helping me get there the most. And being reminded that I’m right where I DIDN’T want to be most is not… helpful? Like, what’s the point of that?
I almost cried.
Anyway, I don’t have another appointment for two weeks, but now I’m left wondering if I should bother. Was it an off day? Can he still potentially help?
I don’t think I have it in me to find ANOTHER therapist. I think this might be my last real try, and if this doesn’t work, I need to try something else.
The medicine is still helping, though, and that’s good. I was sad last night, but I didn’t feel like I was drowning. A+ job, antidepressants.
I wonder if maybe I have to set better parameters with therapists. Walk in and be like, “Look, I’m looking for ways to improve my self-esteem/self-worth, cope better with my family issues, NOT throw the wrong people into the missing family slots in my mind, and grow. NONE of those things can involve confronting people from my past that I lack closure with, or reminding me that I am in any way similar to my parents. Capisce?”
I don’t know. I’ve decided to try one more session with him and see how it goes, mainly because I feel like the end of the month will be rough on me and I may need it.
BECAUSE THERE ARE THINGS I CAN’T GET OVER WHICH WAS MY MAIN FOCUS FOR GOING TO THERAPY BUT INSTEAD I’M BEING TOLD TO TALK TO MY DAD AGAIN, WHICH IS A HORRIBLE IDEA.