Taking Stock of the Therapy Program

As I’ve mentioned about a million times here already, I was enrolled on an 18-month intensive psychotherapy program that came to an end yesterday.

I had gotten there through originally complaining to my GP (doctor) about being depressed, who then had referred me to IAPT – Improved Access to Psychological Therapies. I saw a lady for 12 sessions of CBT – Cognitive Behavioral Therapy and as that was as pointless as drinking a cup of decaf coffee, I then was referred further into the mental health system here in London, and ended up at a clinic at my local hospital where I was placed on a Mentalization-Based Group Therapy program for another 12 sessions.

After that a psychiatrist evaluated me and came to a conclusion that my Borderline Personality Disorder wasn’t bad enough to enrol me on the hospital’s BPD treatment program and basically sent me away. I felt crushed because I felt like I had issues but clearly I “functioned” and was deemed to not deserve more treatment.

He then called me back the next day and said there was someone starting there who could take me onto his Intensive Psychoanalytic Psychotherapy program. I said yes! And that’s how I spent my next 18 months – going to the hospital 3 times a week to lie down and discuss things.

It didn’t work as I have said many times. I had high hopes of the treatment being like an oven, you go in raw and get baked and then come out healed.

I didn’t realize I would have had to work at it more. I went there meticulously on time every week yet for many months I didn’t even talk.

I am raw on the inside now that it’s over – I am mainly angry at myself for not trying more.

I had a dream about my therapist last night and I am still in some kind of state of shock. I think it’a bout the fact that I didn’t sort out what I went there to sort out (recover the memories of the abuse and really get into it and mull over it and churn it out and feel better and move on with my life) and I also need him in my life, I need that safe space and now that I don’t have it I feel alone and scared.

Hyper and anxious.

Like a little rabbit caught in the headlines of a car. Can’t work. I do try but my attention span is like a goldfish’s. Want. To. Go. Home. Sleep.

All I can think about is the therapy, but I have to move on, and hold on to the memories of it and maybe hope something stuck. I just feel like an abandoned little child who wants to cry for help but I am an adult sitting at my desk at work, unable to go on…….

I hope you all have a better day and keep on taking care of yourselves xx

 

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