Thinking about leaving

Starting my individual sessions

It has been two sessions again since I have written anything, sorry about that. They have been a bit interesting and a bit mundane in equal parts. As the title of this blog suggests, they have also made me think, quite seriously, about leaving. But ill get to that later.

I am pleased to report that the member I don’t like did not come back after he stormed out; indeed he hasn’t been back at all. It is my gut feeling that he will not return. According to the therapists, he is thinking about ‘going private’. I have never thought this setting is right for him. Whilst he undeniably has a lot of problems, he never seemed to get the whole ‘group’ aspect and in my humble opinion, he would thrive in an environment where it is only him. Anyway, I am hopeful that this is the last time I will have to mention him on here.

Last week, I started my individual therapy sessions, a full three months after almost everyone else. I am not sure what I was expecting and I am still not sure what I think about it to be honest. It was a woman, which I was not looking forward to and I was worried that she would struggle to understand me since she is not English and I speak very fast. I hope that does not come across as xenophobic, I am certainly not.

I was also angry about the situation; starting my therapy so late and what I felt this represented. I knew that she wasn’t responsible but as the ‘face’ of the programme and my ability to irrationally apportion blame, I was concerned I would be overly angry. I was pleasantly surprised that she began by apologising, in a way that I felt was sincere. She acknowledged the programme had fucked up and she said I was well within my rights to feel angry. She was apprehensive about how I would be towards her but as it turns out, I ended up being far more rational (at least towards her) about it than I had feared.

I explained to her about my private therapist and what I felt these sessions would be about. I would continue to talk to him about the things that really mattered to me as, frankly, I trusted him with my life and I had only just met her, and would converse with her about the group. She seemed slightly taken aback by my approach (I am guessing no one else is seeing someone outside of the programme) but was very acquiescent. I assume she is trying to gain my trust. I ended up speaking a little bit about my childhood, but mainly we spoke about the group and my relationship with my boyfriend.

This week, we spoke a little bit more about my past but mainly focused on my desire to leave the group. She was very understanding about my misgivings around the group and didn’t try to persuade me to stay, or discuss it with the group, which I thought she might. The final decision will lay with my therapist (with input from my boyfriend) and I told her I would have an update next week.

 

Reason for leaving

So. in an earlier blog I stated that I would stick it out, that I was one of the only people who had been truly committed to the programme. This change in attitude may seem sudden, but it is something I have been thinking about for a while. The problem is with the other members and the therapists themselves.

There are two other members who, increasingly, I cannot bear to listen to/look at. I know, this intense reaction is part of the condition, but I am unsure of what else I can do. One member, the one whom I get along with just fine outside of the group (when we walk to the station together, there is no more contact than that) is so hard to deal with in group. He talks, a lot, incoherently and randomly a lot of the time. He cuts across other people, he doesn’t listen to advice but his worst offence is he repeats himself. He basically has one stock story (he had an interaction with someone either in the street or on public transport, which was either positive or negative) which is repeated ad nauseum. He is not interested in why these things happen to him, only in telling what has happened to him. He does not seem to be capable of reflection or self analysis nor is he willing to take it when others offer it. He listens as much as he can before either speaking over them, or completely ignoring what they have just said. It is exhausting listening to him and I am beginning to feel less empathetic towards him.

The other member is like two different people. Before the break, she engaged and was pleasant and looked like she wanted to get better. Since we have been back, she has made it clear that she doesn’t think she has any problems. She cannot relate to anything anyone says since she ‘definitely doesn’t have BPD’ and she constantly looks bored. I have found her attitude to be quite condescending, as if she is looking down on us. This is a hard programme to get into with, what I am told is, a long waiting list. I find it hard, bordering on impossible, to believe that she doesn’t have any serious mental health problems. How else would she have referred in otherwise?

I basically feel she is me from a couple of years ago. Deep down she knows that there is something wrong with her, but she pretends otherwise and insists that she has no problems and her reactions are fine. She called herself normal (I have previously listened to stories she has told us and she is not, in my opinion, normal at all) and feels that her behaviour warrants no further attention or analysis. I asked her why she kept coming then, if she didn’t need any help. She replied that she wanted the 1-1 therapy but couldn’t get that without coming to group.

My main problem with this is that it seems to me that I am the only person who accepts and understands the condition. It makes me wonder, why then, have I been put in a group with people who don’t? Would I not benefit from being around other people who are equally accepting? No one else seems to want to get better and increasingly, I am getting nothing from these sessions.

Which brings me to my last point; the therapists themselves. I think I have mentioned previously that I dislike one of the therapists and like the other. That said, I don’t believe either of them are very good at running this group. There is no structure, there is nothing to take away from it, there is no control. We sometimes just sit there in silence. I really don’t know what their role is in this. The questions that they ask are obvious. I suppose the crux of this is I don’t feel it is specialist at all. It could just be IAPT but on a group level. I want treatment that is specifically designed to tackle BPD. I don’t believe this is what I am getting. I feel short changed and majorly disillusioned.

Apologies for the negative and rambly nature of this post.

Until next time, over and out.

It's been a while

Finding it hard

So, as predicted, I have already become useless at this blog. I haven't updated it for two sessions now and the third one is in a couple of days. So, as well as dreadful writing skills, I also have time keeping issues. Well, you can't say you weren't warned.

Aside from my obvious lack of blogging ability, I have found that when I have 'good' sessions, I find it harder to write about it. Kind of makes sense I guess. I have often found in the past (certainly its why my therapist thought I would be a good idea in the first place) that when I have felt overwhelmed by emotions I have found I easier to articulate them in an email rather than say them face to face. I am quite cowardly as it goes and can only find truthfulness once I am safely behind the computer screen. I don't have to look at anyone's face to misread their reaction or indeed let them have any reaction at all. It allows me to say my piece and them completely switch off.

Indeed. I am only writing this now (1130 on a Friday night, don't be too jealous of my rock n roll lifestyle) since something has greatly angered me. Upset the equilibrium that I was, for a change, experiencing. Only when I am truly angered, or feeling some other extreme emotion can I put finger to keyboard.

The reason for my anger

This is an interesting one. When I explain what has set me off this evening, I expect you will laugh and think how truly childish and petty I am. As usual, as everyone who has known me, friends and family alike, you will only see the event and not what has caused the event. People don't take the time to look behind why I would react so strongly to something so minor. It is hardly ever, if ever, the event itself. It is always what it represents.

I need to go back for a little bit for some context. I don't have any skills, at least not any useful ones. I am of average intelligence, weight, looks and anything else that you can 'be'. There isn't anything that I excel in. I am not a great runner (though that is not for lack of trying) I can't swim or play an instrument, I don't speak another language nor am I good with my finances. When I was younger I became obsessed with the TV show Friends. I watched it constantly, almost like my life depended upon it. I grew to learn the words, at one stage I claimed I knew every word to every episode. I used to challenge people to give me quizzes, I would always win. Then my younger cousin came along and liked it just as much and watched it just as much as I did. Suddenly, I wasn't the Friends expert anymore. I had one thing that I was good at, it was superficial at that and I couldn't even hang on to it.

It was the same with board games, monopoly in particular. I wasn't as intelligent or talented as my siblings so I searched for something, ANYTHING that I could be the best at. Monopoly for a while became my new thing. But of course, when average-ness is part of your DNA being the best, if you even ever were, never lasts. Slowly but surely I have noticed that even my good board games 'skills' have deserted me.

And so, in a long winding and rambling fashion I come to this evening. My boyfriend, who I love very much, excels at everything. He is just one of those people. There isn't anything he can't do and everything comes very easily to him. He ambles through life in his mild and unassuming manner, quietly winning at everything he turns his hand to. Without really trying. As I am sure you have now guessed, he beat me at monopoly. I could see it coming and my stomach just began to fill with dread. Is I fair? He is good at all the stuff that matters, can't I be good at the stuff, just one thing even, that doesn't? Of course not. It is just another reminder, which at this stage I hardly need, of how utterly average I still am. And probably always will be. I know his reaction to my latest episode is to refuse to play games with me anymore, thereby missing the point entirely.

Back to the sessions

Still, I digress. Apologies. This blog is supposed to be about my treatment, not a commentary on the inane details of my average life.

The sessions haven't been particularly hard for me, though I would like to make clear, not enjoyable either. The session this week was interesting and I almost feel like I learnt something and was perhaps preparing to be slightly less harsh on myself. Events of this evening have, of course, put paid to that. But for completeness I will share them with you anyway.

The member I do not get along with stormed out of the session after a heated discussion with another member. Afterwards we were asked what we thought about him leaving and I gave an answer which in my head I knew not to e what I actually thought. So coloured I am in my distaste for him that I gave an answer which satisfied my need to 'get' at him rather than the truth. After a few minutes, I actually volunteered this information to the therapists. I often find I am too honest for my own good, but in this instance it was probably for the best.

I simply stated that my comments could probably be discounted since I said them out of my intense dislike for the member rather than a true reflection on what I thought. I was praised for my honesty, which I found odd.

Honesty. That is the backbone of the lesson I thought I had learnt. At the beginning of the session I noted that I had had a small argument with my boyfriend and had gone to bed with my back to him. He tried to reason with me and actually something he said resonated. At that point I had forgiven him. Yet. I couldn't tell him this. In my head I wanted to turn round and give him a hug, but I denied myself this. Why you might ask. Probably because I am bat shit crazy, but the shrink in me thinks it might be trying to validate the feelings I had in the first place. I was so mad that I couldn't possibly be over it that quickly. It was literally like cutting of my nose to spite my face. I was the only person I was hurting but not hugging him. The only thing I felt I could do was tell him this. So as ridiculous as it sounds (believe me, it reads badly, it was even worse out loud) I explained to him that I wanted to hug him but I couldn't.

Eventually, I did turn round and hug him. The therapists think that I am getting better just by being able to articulate these thoughts. I myself disagree with that, but I wondered something else. I thought that maybe, my way of cutting down the time that I feel hyper emotional is to simply say it out loud. I wonder if by forcing myself to read my mind aloud I can hear how irrational I am being and thus begin to 'come out of it' much sooner.

I know. It's not much in the way of getting better. Reads like a slightly less version of crazy. But, until tonight it made me think maybe this is MY version of getting better. Then I lost at monopoly and lost all hope again.

Sigh. Back to the drawing board. Luckily for me it is a place I am extremely familiar with.

Until next time, over and out.