My heart is beating so fast it threatening to burst from my chest. My eyes are wide like a deer in headlights. I can’t seem to breathe as often as I should. I’m so nervous I’m dizzy and lightheaded. It’s taken me so much effort and convincing myself to walk up and knock on the door. My heart stopped, my lungs refused to inflate as I brought my quaky hand up and knocked on the door. I quickly took two steps back after. I stood there starring, trying to see through the door and praying that there wouldn’t be some vicious monster or succubus on the other side. My heart gave one hard thud against my chest wall and I realized there was no answer to my knock. I took a shaky breathe and forced my feet to step closer to the door and I knocked again. Again no answer. I had to laugh at myself. What was I thinking? Seriously, monster? Succubus? No. The door was a regular, normal door. The door to the therapist I was seeing for the first time today. It took me so much work to get the nerve to come this far and she wasn’t even there. I should laugh at myself but all I could manage was a weak mental smile. My nerves were wrecked. I’m a mess. I walked back to the sitting area to wait for her. I was emotional and trying to shove all those emotion back behind the cracking damn. It wasn’t a big deal, I told myself, so what if she wasn’t there yet. I needed a few minutes to regroup anyway. Besides, not everyone in this world always shows up 15 minutes early, waits and arrives exactly to the minute like I do. I sat there, just breathing and trying to reassure myself everything was fine. I needed this. I needed a licensed professional that could help me deal with my emotions and give me the coping tools that I lack. Every second ticked. The decorative clock on the wall should have been quiet, instead rang loudly in my ears and rattled in my head. The open loft waiting area was beautifully yet simply decorated. It was supposed to be calming, supposed to make you feel at easy with all the inspirational quotes. One plaque on the wall read “Children are the anchors that hold mothers to life” another “Family A journey to forever”. On the far wall long French windows and doors covered only separated by the clock that wished to torment me. I sat there trying to relax and be patient for a few minutes before returning to check if the therapist had arrived. She still wasn’t there. I returned to the waiting room and resumed my sitting. I starred out the windows. The nerves just wouldn’t go away. I sat there as the walls started closing in on me. I tried to fight back. Tried to tell my mind to stop playing tricks on me. I am claustrophobic. There was no reason for me to be reacting this way. It was illogical and irrational. I tried to slow my heart rate and regulate my breathing. I refused to have a panic attack sitting in a waiting area of the therapist. The fact that I needed her help, that I needed this to return to a normal life and so I wouldn’t be or feel useless to my children was the only thing that kept me ‘standing my ground’ and refusing to leave. So I fought the anxiety that threatened to overcome me. I fought the claustrophobia and I endured all the tricks my mind played on me. I waited.
And waited….
And waited.
I waited until 11:35, 35 minutes after the scheduled appointment time. I finally gave up waiting. I felt that 35 min was more than enough time to allow for her running late. I walked down the stairs and out the door feeling my heart sinking. I feel discouraged. There I was struggling with my emotions and fighting to go through this and she didn’t even bother so show up or even call me to reschedule. It’s after 8 pm now and she still has yet to call. I struggled not to cry because the anger I felt. It had taken me 3 weeks of pep talk to get me there. I had been preparing myself for the stripping of emotional layers. I am so discouraged. I don’t know if I’ll be able to talk myself into going again if she even calls to reschedule. I feel that my time was wasted. I had to find someone to come out and watch my kids, teach them how to unhook and turn off Liam’s pump, drive over there and wait. My money was wasted. I had to pay for gas not only in my car to get there but my niece’s car to get out to my house. Her time was wasted and so many people were inconvenienced by this. I had to peel myself away from my son. Leave him with someone other than my husband for more than 15 minutes. This whole ordeal was a complete disaster. I feel angry and disappointed. I needed this and now I don’t know what to do. Going there today caused more damage to my psyche than help. After last week’s session being canceled and now this week she didn’t show up I just feel like I shouldn’t even try to get therapy. That it’s not meant to be. When I left I was so upset that I felt the need to gorge. Something I haven’t done since I started my new meds. I gorged on burger king’s western bbq burger and fries. I couldn’t resist the compulsion. Then after I indulged in a 2 hour nap with both my kids. Now I have to get a hold of our worker who set me up with this therapist to inform her what happened and if they have another therapist they work with. I can’t go back to her. She seems so unprofessional but more importantly I am not comfortable with her now. It’s important to be comfortable with your therapist so that you can be honest with them, at least that’s what I’ve been told. Now in addition to the mountain’s I was going to have to climb and overcome, I have a hill to go with it.
i recently learned that 40% of therapy is the patient be open and willing to change which means you are almost half way to recovery!
ReplyDeletei completely agree you need to find someone new who you trust, who values your time and holds a high standard of professionalism. And when you find that person, I swear its magic!