More about kicking my therapist to the curb

Some of my comments in an email discussion with my support group about the letter I wrote to the therapist I'd decided wasn't working for me:

As for the way the preparatory phase kept dragging on and on without us ever actually doing EMDR...I would have been totally ok with that part if she had said, "Whoa, girl! It's going to take longer with you because we need to do a, b, and c to get you ready" -- and if we had actually done those things. Or if she would have said, "Since your dissociating is such a big problem, here's how we are going to address that." Instead, each time I asked her for specifics about preparing me, she would sidestep the issue with one of her little speeches that would never answer the question. But it usually worked to distract me. Then I'd get home and talk to my husband and he would point out that she still had never answered my questions, so I'd ask them the next time, only to get distracted by her non-answers...Now that my brain works better, it's easier to see through that shit.

I just realized something else. My husband read my letter and one of his comments was that June didn't realize that I'm not the typical client. None of us are or we wouldn't be part of this group. We don't just show up for our sessions; we read stuff; we discuss amongst ourselves; we grill speakers and authors with questions; etc. What I realized is that her speechifying and lecturing probably impresses the snot out of a lot of other people, but I was all, "Yeah, yeah, I know that already." When I would tell her a polite version of that, or ask her to recommend stuff for me to read so we could make more efficient use of our sessions, I think it really put her off her game. Also, I wasn't impressed with her knowledge because my attitude was, "Well, duh, I expect someone who claims to be an EMDR expert to actually know stuff!" So, instead, I was all, "What? Why is she is so clueless about how to treat people like me? She really thinks it's ok to touch me?"

 

Kicking EMDR Therapist to the curb

As the weeks went by, I grew increasingly more frustrated with June. I vented to Sheldon, discussed it at length with him, with some close friends and with my support group. Finally I decided I had given her far more chances than I should have. I wrote her this letter:

October 9, 2012

Dear June,

After a great deal of careful thought and introspection, followed by several discussions with my husband and with trusted friends, as well as additional reading about EMDR, I have come to the conclusion that it would be best to discontinue therapy with you. My husband suggested writing “an articulate letter” expressing my concerns. This is my attempt at such a letter, although I’m not sure how well I will manage the “articulate”.

[I wrote a paragraph, which I'm not including, explaining and describing my support group.]

Our combined experiences and study have taught us quite a bit about what makes therapy effective for us. We need our therapists to communicate in a way that inspires our trust and confidence in them. Obviously, safety is a big issue for all sexual trauma survivors. In order to feel safe, we need the assurance that not only do our therapists possess the necessary expertise, but that they also treat us with sensitivity and compassion. We recognize that what we require is no simple or easy thing. In fact, it is unfortunately far easier for even the most well-meaning therapists to inadvertently do the opposite, causing us to lose what confidence we may have had in them. I’m afraid that is what has happened with you and me.

The first troubling incident was when you touched my knee. I was shocked that a therapist would touch a sexual trauma survivor without warning or permission. Some of my friends considered this a “major red flag”. What we have all grown to expect is being asked something along the lines of, “Is it OK if I touch your knee? It might help calm and ground you.” Instead, what happened felt like a violation of my personal boundaries. Your response to my reaction -- both then and each time you have mentioned it since -- has been unsettling to say the least. You have given no indication of understanding how inappropriate your actions were.

Somewhat less troubling, but still a cause for concern, was the way in which you disagreed with my decision not to press charges against my rapists. I question the purpose of lecturing me thirty years after the fact, and I see no therapeutic value in what came across as an attempt to undermine my confidence in a decision I have never once regretted. What made it worse is that you know extremely little about the circumstances of my rape or my life at the time, yet you felt no qualms telling me what I should have done.

Then there was the issue of eye contact during therapy. The first time you mentioned this, I was both baffled and amused. Frankly, I was tempted to respond, “Duh! I’m a rape and incest survivor!” or to tell you about my friend who stared at her therapist’s shoes every session for an entire year...or my friend who studies the carpet intently...or the other friend who rarely faces her therapist...I was also tempted to mention what several PTSD experts advise therapists regarding this very issue, but surely you already know this far better than I do. Yet you seemed to find it remarkable that I do not feel comfortable maintaining constant eye contact with you. I simply do not understand.

You have also given the impression that you consider it at least somewhat unusual that I did not disclose the incest to my parents at the time that it was happening. You even stated that this should have received special comment in the report from the psychologist who recently tested me. Why would my non-disclosure be particularly significant when the majority of those incest victims who disclose do not do so until well into adulthood? Our reasons for remaining silent are so numerous and compelling that I am amazed at the courage of anyone who does speak up. I would expect a therapist who treats incest survivors to at least acknowledge this reality.

Your negative characterization of my therapeutic relationship with Randy struck me as unprofessional. What was especially offensive is that you made those remarks in the context of describing others’ perception of me and how I can be taken advantage of. I found this insulting to both Randy and me. I'm tempted to refute your statements, especially the one about him being “in over his head” with my trauma issues. However, this letter is already long enough. I know who I was three years ago; I know who I am now; I know how tremendously I benefitted from therapy. I also know that only an exceptional therapist could have gained my trust the way Randy has.

My biggest frustration about therapy in your office is that I cannot point to any positives that will outweigh or even balance out the negatives that concern me. I kept waiting to experience progress or benefit from our sessions. Instead, I have felt stuck in what seemed to be an increasingly longer preparatory phase that brought me no closer to actual treatment than when I first walked in your door.

It would seem to me that if my tendency to dissociate is so problematic, we should either have agreed that I am not a good candidate for EMDR, or our sessions should have focused directly on overcoming this barrier to treatment. Neither has been the case. Even if I did not have my other serious concerns, I would see no reason to waste your time and mine by continuing therapy together.

Sincerely,

Annie [mysterious last name that I'm not ready to disclose here]

cc: Randy [his last name]

 

Things are good!!

At the end of September 2012, I emailed my support group:

Whew, what a day!

It started with me oversleeping and having to race out of the house to get to my appointment with the psychiatrist. This was a follow-up appointment and it went really well. After a somewhat rocky start with nausea and two days in a row of migraines, I'm not only tolerating the zoloft well, but I'm beginning to reap the benefits of it, which are nothing short of amazing to me. The anxiety is pretty much gone; I've been sleeping better, without nightmares; I've felt much more optimistic; I seem better able to handle the emotional ups and downs of life. I know that I'm not yet experiencing the full effects but even now I feel so much more stable than I ever have.

On Monday, I started taking vyvanse, my new ADD med. It's been fairly amazing too. I knew I struggled a lot, but I had no idea how much. I went into the p-doc with a written list of all the improvements I'd noticed and he kept saying, "Your meds are working exactly the way they are supposed to." He started me on the lowest dose of vyvanse, so he upped it a little and also prescribed me a shorter acting med to take in the later afternoon right before the vyvanse starts wearing off.

I left feeling hugely encouraged.

Then I got home. My husband had taken the day off, and he and our two youngest boys were waiting for me, wanting to have a serious talk. Uh oh. Once I realized what they wanted to talk about, I actually felt somewhat relieved, because this conversation has been long overdue. I ended up explaining everything to them...that I had been raped in my early 20's...that I had PTSD and what that meant...why I have been seeing a therapist...that I had recently been tested and diagnosed with ADD...that I was on new meds...and then I let them ask any questions that they wanted to ask. We talked about all sorts of stuff, including my drinking (which has been way better, by the way...) The only thing I didn't tell them about is the incest. They had figured out some of the stuff on their own, just by living with me. (It's kinda obvious I have PTSD. Duh!) I apologized to both boys about not being more open with them, and we talked about my family's legacy of secrecy and how I am trying to overcome that. It was a great talk!! Randy would be so proud of us!

After that, we ate hamburgers and made all sorts of jokes about getting diagnosed with a variety of learning disorders and quirky syndromes so that we could have excuses for all our behaviors.

Then we did work around the house. My husband and I even tackled a project that, before the vyvanse, would have so overwhelmed me that I would have had a terrible meltdown. Instead, I worked away with him as if I was an almost normal person in a good mood! It was so shockingly different than the old me that we couldn't help commenting on it.

I slept fairly well last night.

This morning I keep thinking about all the positive changes in my life lately. Our marriage still needs work, but it is the best it has ever been. It looks like I've found the right meds for my PTSD and my ADD. Our family is becoming more and more connected and open...and a lot of healing is taking place. Good, good stuff! God is really working.

At the same time, it's kinda scary. But, then again, everything is kinda scary to me!

 

Thoughts about my new diagnosis

Written in September 2013:

I've been mulling over what the diagnosis of ADD means to me, and why I have this huge jumble of emotions about it.

In a big way, it's a huge relief. It's something I would suspect, but then I would tell myself, "It's all in your imagination. Your real problem is that you are stupid, lazy, etc., etc."

Now I know a lot of that stuff was not my fault. And, it seems like I can make sense of things that have baffled and frustrated me since I was a kid.

In school, my teachers would say that I made "careless errors". This was so frustrating, because I felt as if I was being accused of not trying, of not caring, and the opposite was true. To this day, I can work very hard on writing something, proofread it a number of times, and it will still contain baffling typos and errors. It's become somewhat of a joke that almost anything I hand out to my students will contain at least one obvious error, unless someone else checks it. Usually I say upfront, "I'm sure there are mistakes, because I'm world's worst proofreader." Does this mean I don't care? Hardly. I hate those mistakes and typos.

When I would clean my room as a child, trying to do my very best with the hopes that my mother would finally, for once, be pleased at the result, she would immediately notice things like a shirt sleeve hanging out of the drawer, some toys in a corner, even a dirty sock in the middle of the floor. I could have sworn that I carefully inspected the room and found nothing amiss. How could I not have noticed these things? My mother would be so frustrated at me. She couldn't believe that I didn't do this sort of thing on purpose, just to annoy her. "Are you blind?" she would ask. "Why do you call me in to inspect your room when it's still a mess?"

I have always wondered why things that seem so easy to other people seemed so hard, almost impossible, to me. Am I stupid? Dense? Weird? People would say, "You must not be paying attention or this would be so easy for you!" but that only made things worse. I thought I was paying attention.

My husband has been forever frustrated and baffled as to why my life seems in a constant state of disorganized chaos, despite my best attempts over the years to correct this. I own numerous books about organizing, both personal and household, and I've tried -- and failed at -- numerous systems over the years. He has seen this as a lack of effort on my part, a lack of follow through. The truth is that I've tried and tried and tried, only to finally give up in despair, hoping that maybe the next book or the next system will work for me.

He has never understood why things will overwhelm me. A typical example: I decide to clean out the closet. He says, "Great idea! And, while we're at it, why don't we clean the entire bedroom and organize all our drawers?" He is an amazing super being and could actually tackle such a project. So he starts pulling everything out and then I'm fighting tears because, to me, he might as well say, "If you tried hard enough, you could organize every house in the neighborhood in one day!" I simply don't know where to start. The closet alone was already too overwhelming.

I feel like going back to every one of my teachers, from elementary school through high school, and saying, "I have ADD. So there. I wasn't bad, lazy, unmotivated, uncaring, or slow."

It makes me want to cry, thinking about it. I was trying. I was trying very hard. And when all those intense efforts never seemed to pay off, when I was accused of being sloppy or difficult or lazy, can anyone blame me for deciding not to push myself so hard? What is the use of trying if it's never good enough?

I think the biggest deal for me is knowing that I'm not stupid. Maybe I'll finally stop berating myself about that.

When I was a kid and my mother would be at wits' end with me, she would go on and on about how stupid I was. But, at report card time, I would get in trouble for my grades. If I was like one of my kids, I would have seen the irony in that and would have said, "Either I'm so terribly stupid, or I'm lazy for not getting straight A's. You can't have it both ways." But, instead, I grew up thinking that I was stupid and lazy.

At the same time, I can understand why I drove my mother to such frustration.

I've taught a number of kids with ADHD. They tend to do well, maybe because I refuse to label them or treat them like their diagnosis. Some of them, along the way, make me want to rip my hair out at times. But I've always had a soft spot for the kid who is bouncing all over while thinking he's standing still, or for the dreamy kid who has to be brought back to earth every few minutes. I wasn't the bouncing off the wall type, but I can relate to thinking you're doing well at something only to get in trouble for failing. One of my students once said, "I focused really well today, didn't I?" and I didn't have the heart to tell him that, to everyone else, it seemed as if he had been inhabiting a different planet during class. Now I know why I relate so well to those kids. I'm one of them.

Maybe best of all, the next time I blast myself with, "What the hell is wrong with you? You are such a complete loser!!" I can remind myself that I now know what's wrong with me, and I'm not a loser.

 

Results from psychological testing

More from September 2012, an email I wrote to my support group:

I'm having another insomnia bout, so I'm not sure if the following will make sense.

My husband and I met with the psychologist on Tuesday so that he could explain the results of the extensive psychological testing I had done. There were no major surprises. I already knew I had PTSD, and I suspected mine was not the mildest case, and he confirmed that. In fact, he strongly suggested I pursue additional treatment, and he gave me the name of a psychiatrist that could determine whether or not I would benefit from other meds. I have an appointment with the psychiatrist on Monday.

The next diagnosis was something I'd suspected for years, but now it's official: I have ADD, the inattentive type. He didn't just base that on screening and personal history; it was very clear from the testing itself. I asked whether or not it could just be another symptom of PTSD and he said, in my case, the difference was obvious. The attention issues with PTSD tend to be as a result of being distracted because of hypervigilance or as a result of dissociation. My test results demonstrated that my main attention problems are significantly different, even though I may also experience PTSD-related attention issues.

There were a few small surprises. I thought I'd done horribly on the test where I had to listen to one-digit numbers being read, add them together, and say the answer. That had been the most stressful part of the test for me. Amazingly, he said I did fine.

Not so with the test where I sat in front of a computer screen and hit the spacebar whenever a letter appeared, unless it was the letter "X". Sometimes the letter would appear in rather quick succession, other times it would be at varying intervals of time. The program measures the types of errors made, how long it takes for the person to respond, etc. The test lasted a horrendously tedious 10 minutes. Apparently a person without any attention or focusing problems will get better as the test goes on. People with different types of ADHD/ADD, or other attention issues, will make distinctively different types of errors. Mine were apparently rather significant, to the extent that the psychologist recommended I consider meds for ADD as well. His only concern, which he knows the psychiatrist will take into consideration, is that stimulants may make my PTSD worse. He emphasized that treatment for PTSD needed to take precedence, because that was my more debilitating issue.

I think it was really good that my husband was there. He described some of the things that have baffled and frustrated him about me, and the psychologist said, "That's classic ADD." What I especially appreciated is that he emphasized to my husband the extreme effort it takes for me to stay focused on most tasks, and he explained why it's pretty much impossible for me to multi-task.

He also went over the results of my personality test and explained to my husband how I am "hardwired" certain ways and that these are unchangeable. Guess I'll never be one of those eternally cheerful, upbeat, life of the party types.

I'm glad I had the testing done. At least now, I can't tell myself that my ADD symptoms are all in my head and that my real problem is that I'm stupid, lazy, or a nutcase. The next time my mother asks, "Are you sure you aren't bipolar?" I can explain that I was extensively tested and no, I'm not. My husband now knows that I don't do certain things in order to annoy him or because I don't care about him. The next time I worry about being crazy, I can remind myself that my test results prove otherwise. So, over all, I think it was money well spent. So does my husband, and he was the one paying for it.

As for the upcoming psychiatrist appointment...I'm a little bit nervous. I'm afraid of going through some awful trial and error in order to find the right meds. I'm scared of certain side effects. I don't want to become a chemical soup. At the same time, if I can be put on something that will alleviate some of my PTSD symptoms, that would be great. And being able to focus better would be...well, I have no idea what it would be like, because I've never experienced it!

In other news, my session with June, the EMDR therapist, also on Tuesday, went well. I brought in a thing I'd written detailing all my PTSD symptoms. I told her that I'd been frustrated by the screening thing she'd used and that I hadn't known how to answer the questions. She appreciated what I wrote, read it over, and asked me questions. For the first time, I felt that she was really listening to me and that she had a desire to get to know me as a person and not just as "EMDR client number whatever". And...she didn't do or say anything annoying the entire time!!!!

Next Tuesday morning I get to see Randy and fill him in on everything that's been going on. It seems like forever since I've seen with him.

For the most part, I feel hopeful that things are getting better. At the same time, I've been plagued by nightmares and sleep problems. Ugh.

 

Why I didn't report

From September 2012:

June, aka "EMDR Therapist", has asked me very little about the rape. One of the few things she did ask was whether I'd reported it. Then she launched into a little speech. It might have been less troubling to me if she had said, "I wish things were different so that more women would feel safe enough to report..." but her speech was more along the lines of, "You should have reported and here's why..."

It really bugged me. She knows nothing of the circumstances of my rape. Yeah, the cop (long story: cops were called after a gun was pulled on one of the rapists) wasn't a lawyer, but he'd already talked to the two guys, knew it was too much of a they said / she said situation, and he was way too familiar with the failings of the legal system in that time and place.

What evidence was there? The bruises and whatever else there might have been could have been easily explained away by "She's kinda kinky and likes rough sex" or "She was abused by one of her boyfriends". Neither of which was true, but how could I prove it?

I wouldn't have received the support I needed during the nightmarish legal ordeal. (I know of no rape survivor who does not describe their experience with the legal system as traumatic, even in the cases where their attacker ended up behind bars.) My family would have been adamantly opposed to my pressing charges. The only friend who might have stood by me - if I had let him - would have been Mark.

At that point in my life, whatever inner strength I may once have had was seriously depleted. I could barely make it through the day. I had nothing left over for pressing charges.

If - big if - it had been taken seriously to the point of going to trial, the older guy would have gained everyone's sympathies as a grieving widower and devoted father. All he needed to do was choke up and brush a tear or two away, and he would have instantly won over every woman there. No one would believe such a sweet, older man was capable of rape. He would have convinced them that all he wanted was to cook me a special dinner, his only motive being kindness and neighborly concern that I wasn't getting enough to eat.

On the other hand, I would have been presented as a wild child, a severely messed up drunken pot-head, eagerly experimenting with drugs and sex, a crazy and out of control little slut who had a constant stream of men in and out of her apartment, who probably had fucked half the men in the apartment building. Naturally, I'd flung myself at the poor lonely man and his nephew and, if they had made any mistake at all, it was giving in to me in a fleeting, regretted moment of alcohol-induced weakness and lapse in judgment. That's if they even admitted that there had been sex; they might just as well have insisted that they rebuffed my drunken advances (I mean, really, look at her...) and that's why I was falsely accusing them...after all, hell hath no fury like a woman scorned...

They could have woven this ridiculously false story convincingly by spinning the truthful testimony of any number of people. Who knows, maybe even my flaky boyfriend at the time would have testified against me: "Well, I have wondered if she ever cheated on me...I didn't know about the night she did cocaine but I saw her when she was still all messed up from the psychedelic mushrooms...yes, I've always thought she liked sex way too much...as far as I know, everything they said about her is true..."

If it had gone to trial, which I doubt it would have, the whole thing would have destroyed me. I'm not being overly dramatic in thinking that I would not have survived. Nothing good would have come of pressing charges. I knew that then and I am even more convinced of it now. It's probably one of the few sensible decisions I made during that time.

People who try to blame me for not stopping a serial rapist and his apprentice nephew are hopelessly naive and misinformed. The only way I could have stopped them from raping other women is if I or someone else would have killed them both. Over the years since then, there have been some dark moments when I've regretted not seeing them dead, but I've never regretted that I didn't press charges. Never.

Way back when, Randy and I talked about why I didn't report, but he certainly didn't second guess me or give me a "why women should report" speech. He completely understood.

Another time, we were talking about a situation where I was tempted to "force" another survivor to do something "for his own good". Randy said gently, "He already had his choices taken away from him. Why would anyone want to do that again? You need to empower him to decide for himself." That was huge to me, and it was something I hadn't thought of.

But I've realized that's one of Randy's guiding principles in therapy, and it's a big reason why he's not the sort who has one method, one approach, one modality of treatment. As he has said to me, "I'm not your typical therapist."

Yeah, I've been angry at him more than once. Furious even. I've been ticked that he wasn't one of these take charge, let's get with the program type of therapists. Now that I'm experiencing the other end of the spectrum, I'm realizing how right his over all approach has been for me. June -- if I'd seen her at the beginning instead of Randy -- would have driven me crazy. I had this intense need to get my story out after bottling it up for so many years. I was desperate and it seemed that the only thing that helped was exposing my secrets one at a time. If Randy had been all "Wait...you don't need to tell it all...why re-traumatize yourself?" I would have been out the door. I couldn't wait. It was like a dam was about to bust. Sticking a finger or cork in its weakest point wasn't going to work.

I think he sized me up from the beginning, perhaps by my huffy, snotty, little brat response when he suggested journaling. (Then I went home and filled page after page like a madwoman.) If he had suggested "finding a safe places" or "the container exercise" to me, I would have bolted. Poor guy, I was so cynical. Every time he acted remotely caring, I would accuse him of just using some fake therapeutic technique...and then there was my tizzy fit over his mere mention of "the empty chair exercise".

He just about fell over in shock when I did the non-dominant handwriting thing. He'd been afraid to suggest it. He wondered why I jumped all over someone else's mention of it while sneering at anything "therapish" he came up with. "That's because that other dude is not my therapist," I said. "So I listen to him."

My husband said to approach EMDR as more of a medical procedure instead of therapy. I just wish the prep work didn't take so much time.

 

Frustrated with New Therapist

More from August 2012:

Today has been one of those days. Apparently I got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning and, since then, almost everything seems to irritate me.

Or maybe New Therapist is just irritating.

The first irritating thing is that I forgot to bring a check or money to pay her, and this is after forgetting to pay her last week as well. I brought it up in the beginning, after she made some sort of comment about picking up that I had a "pensive energy". Then she wanted to know my feelings about forgetting something...why I was being so hard on myself...blah blah blah. Somehow that led to her asking what I was teased about by other kids in school. I saw no reason to go there. I tossed in a deflecting story that Randy would have seen right through but she didn't seem to.

Then she fussed at me for not making eye contact. I laughed and said, "Yeah, I'm not really good at that." But I was thinking that I was doing really well at it...for me. What does she want? That I sit there and gaze into her eyes the entire session? Good grief, I'm sitting there like an adult. I have no idea what she would think if I assumed my therapy position, and huddled behind my knees and arms. Am I the only trauma client she's had that avoided eye contact?

Next annoying thing: she smelled smoke on me and asked if I smoke. I'd 'fessed up to my mini-cigar habit during our first session when she'd asked about tobacco usage. I felt like I was being fussed at again, especially when she made some comments about dopamine levels. "I used to smoke so I know what that's all about," she said. Oh, great. One of those obnoxious ex-smokers. She then tried to convince me that my 1-2 mini-cigars every week or two could suddenly turn me into a chain smoker. After all, she used to smoke so she knows all about overnight addiction. Whatever.

Then we finally finished the screening thing we started a couple weeks ago. So now she knows all about my dissociating ways. She then launched into a lecture about PTSD. I dropped hints about having read some stuff, but she ignored them and acted as if I was hearing about PTSD for the very first time. It was annoying.

Then, at the end, she said the good news is -- and she acted as if she was announcing something that would be profoundly new and life-changing for me -- "Your trauma is in the past. You are safe now."

I wanted to be a smart ass and say, "Really? I thought it was still going on right this very moment, even as we speak." Which is exactly what I would have done with Randy, and he would have laughed. Except he would never have said something so "Duh!" and condescending to me. It's not like I was freaking out and needed to be reminded of where I was and that I was safe. I was sitting there calm as a cucumber, well aware of the fact that the rape ended over 30 years ago, and the incest even before then.

It was the end of the session. She asked what my "takeaway" was. I said, "That my trauma is in the past". If she knew me better, she would have realized that I was being highly sarcastic.

I'm hoping every session isn't going to get progressively more annoying.

Here's what's really frustrating me...

I want to get the EMDR over and done with. Yeah, I know I need to do all this preparatory stuff but honestly, other than the screening thing for her benefit, I don't think I gained anything out of today. Before she launches into yet another lecture, I think I'll tell her to assign me something to read instead, because I feel like we're wasting my time and money during sessions.

I miss Randy. As angry as I got with him sometimes, as frustrated as I got, I'm realizing how good of a fit he was for me.

New Therapist's whole approach seems so artificial and contained and distancing to me. Actually, I can't blame her completely, because of my "I'm just here for EMDR" attitude. At the same time, I feel like she sees me more as "EMDR Client Number Whatever" than as me, a real person. I feel like she cares more about me as a "case" than as who I am. Yeah, this is only our fifth session together, but when I look back at the early weeks with Randy, I remember being suspicious of how caring he came across. I remember asking him why the hell he cared or if it was just some therapeutic technique he was using on me, and I remember him looking at me with surprise and bewilderment before he came up with a cautious answer. If I had been seeing New Therapist, I wouldn't have asked that question. In fact, I might have asked the opposite.

Today she brought up what she called "that thing that happened here in my office", referring to the time I got all anxious. To me, my reaction was not a big huge deal, but apparently it was to her. Which makes me wonder what sort of clients she typically sees. Ones without PTSD symptoms? In passing, as if to jog my memory, she mentioned touching my knee and that I said, "Don't touch me!" and she made it sound way more extreme than the way I said it. So did she think I completely overreacted? After all, as she told me then, most of her clients find a pat on the knee comforting, reassuring, and grounding. Good for them.

She said some other thing about the severity of my trauma. I mean, really? I could tell her way more severe trauma stories of people I know. Plus, she doesn't even know my story. It makes me wonder...if she thinks mine is so severe...has she actually treated more than a handful of rape survivors?

One of Randy's major guiding principles in treatment is empowering sexual abuse survivors. It's why he let me set my own pace much of the time, unless he had a good reason to push me or slow me down. It's why he structured our sessions the way he did. It's why he refused to tell me what healing "should" look like. New Therapist's approach is so different and it leaves me feeling less empowered. She's calling all the shots. She is setting the pace. She acts as if she knows my limitations and capabilities better than I know them. Maybe if I was new to therapy, I would appreciate this. But I feel like I've grown beyond the spoon feeding stage. I may be messed up, but I'm not a stupid little kid.

Funny thing...even though Randy has seen Teenage Me emerge on many an occassion, even though he and I have laughed together, in retrospect, over the times I got all bratty and rebellious with him, he always treated me like an adult. But June (not sure she deserves a name but I'm tired of typing "New Therapist") who has never seen Teenage Me and has only seen my adult side, treats me in a way that makes me think she sees me as a not-too-bright 13 year old.

I'm going to make an appointment to see Randy so I can dump several weeks of stuff and ask him to help me sort through it all.

The above was an email I sent to my support group. The general consensus was that the touching was shockingly inappropriate. Between us, we have quite a bit of experience with therapists, good and bad, but no one else had ever been touched by one without permission. Someone asked if perhaps she was a brand new therapist? Someone else said, "Surely, if she has worked with enough trauma survivors she would know that many people don't make eye contact in therapy." I responded to the group:

The touching thing did freak me out, but my reaction was not as bad as the way she imitated me. Randy has never touched me without permission either. Once, early on, he tried to adjust my chair for me. Immediately i turned into a shaking mess, demanding hysterically, "What are you doing?" Now that was a way more extreme reaction! He felt so bad. He quickly learned all my weird quirks and triggers and he never said anything stupid like, "Most of my clients appreciate that I'm just being helpful when I try to adjust their chair for them."

Yeah, I don't expect June to figure all this out right now, but the touching issue seems like a no-brainer to me.

That whole thing, I realize now, bothered me much more than I thought at first. She made it worse yesterday by exaggerating how I'd responded. I'm left wondering if she thinks I'm weird and over the top for not wanting to be touched by a strange therapist when I'm upset and for not maintaining eye contact. Then I wonder if she's insensitive and I think how Randy apologized profusely the few times he thought he behaved insensitively or cluelessly.

I want to give her a good chance, and I really don't want to throw in the towel before we even get to EMDR.

The thing that gets me is that she's not some inexperienced newbie. She's been doing EMDR since 1983. She's got multiple certifications...trains other therapists in EMDR...she is supposedly a recognized expert in domestic violence & heads up a support/discussion group for therapists involved in domestic violence treatment and sexual trauma therapy. So I had high expectations for her.

I can't for the life of me figure out why she does and says things that make her seem so clueless.

After I ranted and raved to my poor husband last night, we both agreed that I needed to speak up. I think telling her, "This would be helpful to me", followed with a few specifics, would be a good start.

I suppose if I'd never read a word about EMDR, PTSD, trauma therapy, etc., I'd find her lectures helpful and informative. But I sit there thinking impatiently, "The clock is ticking, the meter is running, is this really worth my time and money?" My husband pointed out that she has no way of knowing what I know unless I tell her, so I think I'll drop the names of a few of the authors and books I've read and let her know, politely, that I didn't just fall off the turnip truck yesterday.

She does a lot of work with groups, and I wonder if she's better at that. It's not that she is mechanical. It's this subtle thing. A group is more like an audience. Most people tend to speak to and interact with a group diffrently. I don't know how to express it other than to say it's like they become "bigger" with a group. That's how she comes across to me sometimes. That's why her explanations feel like lectures, and why things feel impersonal and distant to me at times. The whiteboards on her wall just make things seem more classroomish to me.

There have been times that Randy has explained things to me. He will even make lists, diagrams, and charts on this notepad thingie of his. He always personalizes his explanations and makes them more conversational, so it never seems like a lecture. For example, when he talked to me about his understanding of the addiction cycle, I didn't end up with just general knowledge, I ended up with an understanding of how my specific behaviors fit this pattern, and how I could break the cycle.

I think she's excited and passionate about her work. But I also think that has made her, at least in my eyes, more committed to the process than to me as her individual client.

One of the other things that frustrated me is the screening thing she did with me, where I was supposed to come up with answers based on what percentage of the time I experienced certain things. The whole thing didn't make sense to me. It felt like a math problem where I didn't know most of the variables. How do you figure out what percentage of the time you have flashbacks? If I had one flashback per week and it lasted 5 minutes, do I figure out what percentage that is of all the hours I was awake that week? Do I figure out what percentage it was of all the times I was triggered but didn't have a flashback? I told her that I was having a hard time coming up with answers, but I don't think I explained why.

Anyway, I don't think that my answers gave an accurate picture of how/when/why I dissociate, have flashbacks, or the full range of PTSD symptoms I experience. So yesterday I copied a typical list describing PTSD and explained which symptoms I experience (pretty much all of them) and how I experience them, as well as which ones bother me the most. I really think that's going to give her a much more complete picture of what's going on with me and what brought me in to see her in the first place. I'm planning on bringing what I wrote with me on Tuesday. I also think her response to it will give me a better idea of whether she is willing or able to tailor things to fit me better.

 

If I wasn't crazy before, I am now

Email to my support group in August 2012:

I feel spent.

In the morning, I had my session with New Therapist. It wasn't at all difficult. Mostly she gave an interesting lecture on brain development and then told me what we would actually be doing during EMDR. But I missed Randy, because I would have told him about my past week, which wasn't exactly a walk in the park, and he would have completely understood why.

It seems that New Therapist simply must annoy me at least once every session. I'm trying to remember if Randy annoyed me in the beginning. What I remember is that with him, it was mostly like this:

Me: "Blah, blah blah, but it was really no big deal."

Him: "I think it was. I think it was a very big deal."

Me: "No, it wasn't. And how do you know? You weren't there!"

Him: "If it's no big deal, why can't you look at me? Why are you hiding all curled up in a little ball, with your right leg shaking?"

Me: "Why do you have to make things sound so horrible?!"

Him: "Because they were."

Then I would think that he was hugely annoying...damn him...therapy sucks...

But New Therapist is annoying in a different way. Today it was because I mentioned that I was going in for psychological testing because the marriage counselors recommended it. Specifically, they wanted me to be tested for ADD.

"Why do they think you might have ADD?" she asked, sounding highly skeptical. I cited a litany of reasons. She said it could all be from PTSD.

I replied that I'd had the same issues all through school, that every report card said "not working up to her potential"' "needs to pay better attention", "makes careless errors", and "reads or daydreams when should be working."

She asked when the incest began. I said at age 13. Then she decided, knowing absolutely nothing of my childhood, that I must have had PTSD long before that. "I think we need to take care of the PTSD first before we even look at anything else because I don't think it is anything else."

I figure the psychologist will be able to sort all that out. Isn't that the point of testing? I think what bothered me is that she sounded so sure of herself when she still knows very little about me.

The other thing that annoys me is that she seems to be trying too hard to convince me of how effective EMDR is, and how experienced and well trained she is. I want to say, "Hey, I'm here, aren't I? So enough with the infomercial already!"

After lunch, it was off to the psychologist for testing. I really liked this guy. He apologized up front for being a smart ass, and I said it would make the testing more fun. It did.

But, dang!!! It was exhausting. I felt like every part of my mind and psyche was poked, prodded, and analyzed.

Weird thing I can't figure out: why does taking a screening test for PTSD make me feel so horribly anxious?

But the worst part was this thing that was supposed to test my auditory attention or something like that. A computerish voice would say numbers and I was supposed to keep adding the last two of them and say the answer. That made me nervous and twitchy enough. Oh, no!!! A math test!!!! Yeah, they were only one-digit numbers, but still...Then the voice started reading the numbers faster and faster and I couldn't keep up. It reminded me of 10th grade, when the evil teacher would send me to the board and bombard me with so many questions that, at the end, I couldn't even tell him the answer to 1 plus 1, and the whole class would laugh.

This wasn't quite that bad. I wasn't worried about getting in trouble for getting a bad grade or about being humiliated in front of my peers. But my right leg stiarted twitching and trembling anyway, and my voice started quavering, and I felt on the verge of tears. Then I was afraid I'd fall apart and need therapizing on the spot!! Which, I'm sure, never happens to anyone else.

Finally, after four hours or so, the whole ordeal was over except for filling out and discussing a medical/psychological history. Then, at long last, I dragged myself away, feeling as if my brain had fallen out onto the floor.

Replying to comments from others:

I think the number part of the test was to determine how well I could focus my attention on what I was hearing. There was another test for the visual part. It was simpler, no numbers or adding, but was so boring and tedious I almost went crazy!

Funny thing: I always second guess myself, so now I'm wondering if I tried too hard on the tests. Maybe I should have given in to every distraction that came along, instead of fighting so hard to stay focused. The thing is that I can't maintain that same level of intense effort for very long.

There is overlap between PTSD and ADD. A lot of his screening and history was to determine when the ADD symptoms first became a problem vs. when the PTSD symptoms started. Some of the actual tests should pinpoint that as well. It will be interesting to see what he comes up with.

I know some of my spaciness is dissociation, but certainly not all of it -- and not when I was a little kid.

As for EMDR, if anything, New Therapist is moving too slow for my taste. Yesterday she said that it would take "quite a bit longer than average" to prepare me for EMDR. When I asked why, she said that I had a difficult time "staying in the present". I guess I'm more of a whacked out nutcase than her typical client.

Don't know what to think

Third session with New Therapist:

The plan was to go through some mysterious "screening tool" that she would explain afterward. Then she would describe more of the actual process of EMDR.

We didn't even make it through the screening tool. Apparently my inability to stay on task infects my therapists, causing them to throw structure and order out the window. She started asking me questions that had us jumping all over the place. Had I reported the rape? Why not? (Followed by her sort of fussing at me for not reporting.) Did I tell anyone? Had I experienced any other sexual trauma besides the years of incest and the rape? None of these had anything to do with the screening tool.

It did have something about flashbacks, without using that word. She asked some follow-up questions and then she said, sounding almost surprised, "The flashbacks you describe are a symptom of full-blown PTSD." I bit my tongue, but I wanted to say, "Well, duh. Why do you think I'm here? Haven't you been paying attention?"

She asked what triggered my flashbacks and she was way more interested in the ones I'd had during therapy. Not that she came right out and said so, but she hinted that Randy had been irresponsible in not preventing my flashbacks. Then she said something like, "I disagree with the idea of clients having flashbacks during sessions. I think it's harmful and not at all beneficial." It's not like he purposefully triggered my flashbacks or sat back and let them run their course in case they had some therapeutic benefit. I pointed out that he always brought me back to the present and that he became adept at noticing when I was starting to go away. I felt kinda defensive on his behalf.

She let me know we were going to finish the screening next week. She asked some other questions. At one point she got to see my anxiety-induced leg trembling/shaking. She made the mistake of suddenly touching my other leg in a calming gesture. That only made things worse. Why didn't she ask first? Did she think it was OK to touch me without warning because she's a woman?

So we had a talk about boundaries and touching. She said most of her clients would have found that soothing and grounding. I said I didn't know her well enough to want her to touch me. I didn't say that I was shocked that she made a habit of touching clients without warning or permission.

Apparently this session convinced her I'm a tougher case than she originally thought. Last week she said something about a total of 6-8 sessions of preparation before starting EMDR. Now she was saying that I would need 8-12 sessions, not counting the 3 we already had. "Probably more like 10 to 12 sessions." I guess she's afraid I'm going to stay lost in flashback land if we don't do all this prep work.

It's kinda discouraging.

The latest from marriage counseling:

Sigh. To make a long story short, the counselors referred me to a psychologist for diagnostic testing. They were astonished I haven't been tested for ADD. My husband was immediately on board without even making a comment about cost. Apparently this guy is going to do a full battery of tests. I'm kinda nervous.

It's not like the counselors refer everyone to this guy -- I'm only the 4th one. They had referred the other 3 after working with them for years without making any headway. From a few comments they made about one of those clients, he sounded like a psychopath.

Great. I just love being the "special" client who needs extra help.

 

Two therapists in one day

Written after my second session with New Therapist:

Tuesday has been my therapy day for about a year now, and yesterday was no exception...except that it was a therapy day like no other.

My first appointment was with Randy. He was eager to hear about how things had gone with EMDR Therapist the previous Thursday. I gave him a brief overview and then said that I'd had two concerns. One was about my file, which she was going to request. Would that include just his notes or also the things I'd written? He assured me it would just be his notes, but that he was reluctant to send even that because it would not really do her any good because his notes were completely illegible to anyone but him.

"I warned her about that," I laughed. "I said that she would never be able to decipher your hieroglyphics."

Randy said he would be more than happy to talk with her and bring her up to speed, and that a phone consultation between the two of them would be far more valuable to her than his notes.

Then I told him that she strongly recommended I not see him while in treatment with her, and that this had sort of thrown me for a loop. We discussed it, and he had some additional reasons for why it was not a good idea, and why New Therapist needs to be my primary therapist "for a season", as he put it. At the same time, he wanted me to know that he was not abandoning me; he was not getting rid of me by palming me off on someone else, etc. He liked my idea to check in with him now and then. We both agreed that I would call when I wanted to schedule an appointment.

I told him that I'd always imagined that I would taper off with him and that we would never really have an official "last session". He said something about tapering off of drugs versus quitting cold turkey and I laughed. I didn't think of him as a drug! (A friend later convinced me that, yes, our therapists are like drugs.)

We then talked about the bond that is formed by a healthy therapeutic relationship. I have been feeling increasingly upbeat over the past few days and the nice things he said about me didn't ruin that. I didn't even glare at him. He told me he would miss me, which made me feel all weird at first until I remembered that I miss my students when they leave, even if only for a break, and there is nothing sinister or inappropriate about that, and they don't act all jittery when they return and I tell them, "I missed you!"

He reminded me of some of the things we've worked through together...it was a nice conversation.

Then we caught up on the latest of what's been going on with me. He said that I looked much more at peace, much more hopeful, and I said that I felt that way as well.

It was a bit odd to say goodby to him and instead of "See you next Tuesday", to say "I'll call you when I want an appointment." He's going to be gone for a little over two weeks in August, so I'd be taking a little break anyway...which means that it will be New Therapist and me, just the two of us, on our own until at least September.

I had an hour break between that session and my one with New Therapist.

Even though it was only my second session with her, I felt fairly comfortable. It's not like I feel at home in her office yet, or that I feel a sense of connection with her yet, but I feel confident that we will be a good fit. She seems more "therapish" than Randy...more structured...although the funny thing is that she commented several times that she wasn't following her usual plan for a second session, that she was doing things in a much different order. I began to wonder why. Without meaning to, was I somehow throwing her off her game? Was Randy more structured with his other clients? Do I bring into therapy some sort of urge to go off on rabbit trails or to follow a different track? Or did she think that I needed some on-the-spot therapizing that couldn't wait?

Some half-joking comment that I made about a parenting book left on her couch made her stop everything and jump on why I tend to focus on the things I've done wrong rather than the things I've done right.

Then she was having me read a laminated list of "lies" that she pulled out of a small nearby filing cabinet. These were a bunch of negative statements such as "I am no good", "I am stupid", etc. She had me read them quietly and notice, without having to tell her, if any of them "popped out" at me, gave me a mental picture, or caused me to feel something emotionally and/or physically. At the end of the looooong list, I laughingly commented, "I say a lot of these to myself." Of course she couldn't let that go. She went into a thing about negative beliefs and gave examples of the difference between admitting I'd made a mistake or done something stupid versus calling myself an idiot. She also talked about evidence against that belief, again giving examples.

I'm not sure how it came up, but we started talking about the statement, "There is something wrong with me." I insisted it was true or I wouldn't be in therapy. She insisted there was nothing wrong with me (I wanted to say, "Oh, you don't know me yet!") and had some way of rephrasing it that didn't make a whole lot of sense to me because I didn't see the difference.

After that, she was asking me how things went with Randy, which prompted her to ask what I particularly "enjoyed" about therapy with him. We laughed about the word "enjoyed" and I talked about some of the things that I felt had been particularly beneficial to me. For some reason, I started talking about trust, and how huge it was for him to have gained my trust. I also mentioned that I'd had this fear, in the early months of therapy, that I would do something that would make him kick me out. Although I didn't say this to her, now that I think about it, what I was really trying to ask was, "No matter how difficult I become, no matter how 'bad' I am, will you still hang in there with me or will you abandon me?"

I think she picked up on that without my having to say it, because she asked me if other people in my life had "kicked me out" or physically abandoned me. "Not really...." I said, and then she asked if I had been emotionally abandoned. For some reason, this question gave me a lump in my throat. I stammered something...don't remember what...and she was suddenly asking me to remember the first time I ever felt that way. I tried to deflect the question with a joke, but that didn't work, so I told her about an incident at age 7...the time when I wept inconsolably...and how I was left all alone to cry for what seemed like hours...

Then she was writing something, sort of like a list, on the whiteboard she has on the wall. "Normally I would use an example to explain part of the process we will go through with EMDR, but I think I'll use your memory."

She had me come up with a title, something to call that experience. I said that I'd remember what "7 years old" meant. Then she asked what picture I saw in my mind...what emotions I felt about it...what physical sensations I felt (although she said we weren't going to explore that one today) and what thoughts or beliefs I had. She was helping me come up with these, not by suggesting anything, but by asking me questions. All this time, she was summarizing my answers in a kind of chart form on the whiteboard. She asked me, on a scale of 1-10, how distressed I felt, how strong my emotions were, how significant this situation was, or something like that. I wasn't completely overwhelmed, but I felt on the verge of breaking down and sobbing. I think that if Randy and I hadn't already talked about that very same situation...if this was the first time I was telling someone about it...I would have been completely undone. I told her it was a 9. That made me feel silly and like I was hugely overreacting to something long in my past, but I kept my mouth shut about that.

Next she asked me about my thought/belief, not what I was thinking then, but now. That one was harder to come up with. At first -- especially since I'd been berating myself silently for still being all upset over something I should be long over, telling myself that I'd hugely overreacted back then and was still overreacting -- I said, "There is something wrong with me." We talked about that and then I said really quietly, "I think what I believe is that no one really loves me. I mean, they love me up to a point, but they don't really...really...love me..."

"What does that make you believe about yourself?" she asked.

It was hard to get the words out. First of all, it seemed so over the top, so untrue...and so cliche. We sat there for a while. Finally I said, "I am unlovable." Then I issued all sorts of disclaimers, which she ignored while writing "I am unlovable" on the whiteboard and crossing out "There is something wrong with me."

"What would you really like to believe instead?" she asked.

"Huh?"

"What belief or thought would you like to replace this lie with?"

"Uh..." I had no idea. We talked about it and she came up with, "I am lovable. I was just a little girl who was heartbroken." Then she asked, "On a scale of 1 to 7, how strongly do you feel that is true? I'm not talking about whether or not you believe it, but how you feel, deep down inside, about it."

I felt like saying, "I hate putting things on number scales" but was afraid that either she would think I was trying to avoid answering her (partially true) or that she would feel a need to therapize me about my hatred of number scales. So I said, "3" because it felt safe and middle of the road. Then I elaborated, "I believe the second sentence. Not so sure about the first."

Then she explained this was the sort of memory we would use in an EMDR session. She talked about how these feelings, thoughts and beliefs, didn't just end at age 7, that they have followed me my entire life, and that I have set about attempting to prove or disprove "I am unlovable" ever since then. She even gave some specific examples, based on the little she knows about me so far.

Apparently we'll be looking at my present issues, and then looking back at their origins. She said something about doing EMDR for the "first time" we felt or experience something, the "worst time", and the "last time". Sometimes just taking care of the first time will automatically take care of then rest, but not always. Somewhere in the session, she had made the statement, "Anxiety is unresolved conflict". I kind of re-framed that, in my mind, as anxiety being caused by our stuck points, and as EMDR being a way to work past those stuck points.

In the course of all that, she asked me several times how I was doing. (This reminded me very much of the book "The Body Remembers". I'd mentioned it the previous session and she was familiar with it. Her approach seems similar in a lot of ways, as far as I can tell so far.)

She brought up Randy again. She acknowledged that I obviously had a bond with him after three years of therapy. She was comfortable with my "checking in" with him now and then. But she asked me to tell her if I found myself especially missing him or wanting a session with him, to see if there was something specific that I was missing that we could incorporate into our sessions. I didn't say anything, but I thought, It's not a specific technique that I will miss. It will be Randy himself and the rapport we built up. It will be the simple things, like being able to say "My mother called" and he will know by the tone of my voice and the look on my face exactly what that means. It will be the trust I have for him...the fact that he has always shown me a mind-boggling level of acceptance I never thought possible...

At the end of the session, she did a little 5 senses, grounding exercise to make sure I was doing ok. I thought it was a bit hokey but nice at the same time.

Overall, I feel optimistic. In some ways, I feel like I'm embarking on a new adventure or something...kind of like a bird leaving the nest but knowing she can always return...

 

She seemed promising at first

Written back in August 2012:

Just had my first session with EMDR Therapist. My nerves almost got the best of me beforehand. To help me cope, I dressed like an adult. But once I met her, I felt more at ease. I really liked her. We're not going to jump into the EMDR right away; she's going to be helping me establish a sense of safety first and teach me tools I can use to deal with being triggered. She doesn't believe in "it gets worse before it gets better", even though she was taught that in therapy school. She also thinks therapy should not disrupt the rest of your life. And she claims clients leave their sessions smiling. We'll see.

It all sounds very good and what I'm ready for.

The only catch: she strongly advised I not see Randy while seeing her. She said it's not helpful to be stirring things up in an additional session per week. Also, she and Randy would need to work closely together and consult on a weekly basis, so as to keep on the same page, and she would have to bill me for that ongoing consultation time, which makes sense.

So I'm going to see him next Tuesday and tell him I'll be taking a break for awhile. She says she'll have a better idea next week as far as how long my treatment might take.

In the meantime, she recommended I see a psychiatrist to have my meds evaluated; she thought zoloft might be a better fit for PTSD.

We also talked about tequila. And insomnia. She suggested a bedtime ritual that doesn't involve alcohol, forcing myself to get out of bed at the same time each morning, and exercising between 6 & 9 am each morning. She sounded quite confident that this would cure my insomnia.

I'm looking forward to working with a girl therapist. I like that she covered a lot of ground today (including how she handles running into a client in public) and gave me a good understanding of how she approaches things. I think we will be a good fit. I'm excited...and kinda nervous...and a bit sad about taking a break from Randy, even though I was all angry at him just a few weeks ago.

New year...finally a new post

I'm not sure why I let this blog languish...or why I feel like posting again. All I know is that I feel the need to write.

Recovery is a strange, difficult progress. So far, it's been a meandering journey for me, full of stops and starts, detours, roadblocks, mountains, valleys, hidden dangers, beautiful discoveries, etc. Often it takes a crisis to get me willing to get moving in a new direction. A crisis brought me to therapy in the first place and, since then, much of the work I have done has been motivated by pain and desperation.

Months ago, I had another crisis: a panic attack so severe that I ended up in the emergency room, thinking I was dying. I scared the hell out of some of the people who saw me. Physically, I recovered quickly. Emotionally, I felt at the end of my rope.

So I pretty much blamed it all on Randy, my therapist. (Later, I apologized but told him he did make for a handy whipping boy. "Gee, thanks," he replied.) The upshot is that I decided I needed a completely different form of therapy, something more structured, less long term, with a definite and predictable duration -- in other words, EMDR. So I found someone whose website impressed me and who sounded nice on the phone, and off I went (with Randy's blessing).

Long story short, New Therapist and I were not a good fit. No, it was worse than that. To be completely frank, I think she was in way over her head with me...and possibly with any sexual trauma survivor. One example: she showed a shocking disregard for personal boundaries by touching me without permission when I was already triggered...and she acted as if she'd never before seen a PTSD-ish reaction to unwanted touch. Heck, I thought I was low key with my "Don't touch me!" It's not like I screamed or ran out the door or curled into a weepy ball or started having some full-blown flashback -- all things I've done in the past. She also seemed to think nothing wrong of unsolicited touch and acted as if the whole thing was my weird problem and an overreaction on my part. What are they teaching in therapy school? It's pretty bad when the client has a better idea of what is appropriate and what's not, and why.

I put up with things as long as I could, wanting to give her the benefit of the doubt, and not wanting to give up too easily. But eventually, I realized we were heading nowhere, and I was just wasting time and money.

Now I'm back with Randy. It's good.

Some might see my time with Bad Therapist as a senseless detour. But it turns out that I'm glad for the experience, but that's for another post sometime in the future.

In the meantime, over the next few weeks, I hope to be posting about my EMDR experience...that really wasn't.