My therapist wanted to talk about the collages I sent her; the ones with the guns in them.
It was actually very interesting because after having known me for 10 years, it didn’t come out until yesterday that I always have a suicide backup plan. I know that over here in the U.S. when I get hospitalized for psych stuff, they always ask if you have a plan as a way to figure out how much of a danger you are. I had to tell my therapist that it’s not like that with me or some of the other people I know. I always have a plan. If I decided to off myself, I know exactly how I would do it and that plan is always there no matter what meds I’m taking or how well I feel.
She was completely surprised. I think that she was also quite disturbed because my plan is incredibly practical. She decided that I needed to hear what would happen if I killed myself. Mind you, I kept telling her over and over that I have no intention of doing anything to myself. I told her that death simply sounded attractive as a way to escape the pain. She said she understood that but she kept going on and on about what my husband would go through and I got irritated because I’m not suicidal.
Anyway, during the session I brought up a point that CG made that really made an impression on me.
In one of my last post I talked about my therapist saying that my thoughts were irrational because I was thinking like a child would. CG made an incredibly relevant point that my feelings as a child were not irrational, they were natural considering what was going on back then. Originally during that first session, I forced myself not to be offended by my therapist’s use of that word, but CG made me realize that part of me really was offended. I simply ignored it because I thought that my therapist was right.
I decided to bring this up in therapy this week and surprisingly my therapist was apologetic. She said that she hadn’t thought that about the fact that using that word, “irrational”, would make the younger parts feel like their feeling weren’t being honored. She came up with that on her own without me telling her. And it was weird because when she said that, there was an answering reaction internally that let me know that indeed there were parts that had felt that way I simply misinterpreted the feeling and where it was coming from. My therapist said that she’d have to be more careful about her choice of words and she agreed with CG’s thoughts about the validity of a child’s thoughts an feelings. It was a good experience because it showed me that she’s open to being corrected or learning a different way of doing things. She was sincerely worried that her words had somehow contributed to my depression and I appreciated her concern even though I don’t feel like she had anything to do with how I felt later.
As of today, I’m on day three of being back on the Wellbutrin and I am hating life with a vengeance. I am. I have to be honest. And no, I don’t feel like whining about it anymore. My friend who recently lost her sister has asked me to go to a festival with her, and I will because she needs to get away from her jerk of a husband and out of the house so she can have something nice to focus on so she doesn’t get swallowed up by grief. I’ll do what I can to make it a special day for her and no, that does not make me a good person so don’t even think it. 😛