The woman at DSHS yesterday recommended that I get myself a good therapist.
Yeah, yeah, I know, I'm a little kooky and all... And it's HARDLY the first time somebody's told me to go get my head shrunk. But this woman managed to make the decision that I needed a psychiatrist before I'd even SAID anything to her. That's a bit unusual even for me.
Well, no, that's not entirely true... I had said a couple of things. I'd asked her what kinds of things DSHS requires for a job search, and I'd told her that I have no money for food or bus fare.
Man, I'm a fucken lunatic.
Seriously, I politely declined the woman's offer to help me find a counselor.
I have a few theories about the mental health profession. One is: therapists are generally sort of groping in the dark. Another is: the mental health bible, the DSM-IV, is mostly crap. A third is: people who are being paid to care about what somebody thinks are VERY rarely (but occasionally) able to ACTUALLY care.
I'm disgusted by the number of people who go to counselors because they're assholes and want somebody to commiserate with them. I'm disgusted by the amount of whining that's apparently condoned by professionals. Moreover, I'm appalled by the number of people who genuinely could use some help and aren't taken seriously, or who are misdiagnosed, drugged up, locked away, ignored, etc., etc.
For the most part, those people who have told me I could benefit from a consultation or two with a counselor, are those people who didn't know me very well at all. For the most part, they have been the types who believe that counseling cures everything.
I just don't happen to believe that.
And anyway, what problems do I have right now that could possibly be alleviated by a counselor?
I sometimes worry about the relationships between my room-mates and myself. I worry about how we get along. Sometimes there are problems. Sometimes I get really pissed off and feel like I have no privacy, or that my generosity is being taken advantage of. Sometimes they seem to get really pissed at me for what I suspect is a feeling of their territory being invaded by my lazy, perpetually hungry, almost-fat ass. These are a couple things I worry about sometimes. You know what the solution to those things is? Fucken TALK about it. Yeah, sometimes I'm too chickenshit to be assertive and bring up an important discussion, but that's my own damned fault, and seeing a freaking counselor isn't going to help anything; it's just going to allow me to be inactive.
I asked the DSHS counselor what, exactly, she thought I needed therapy for. She said: "Most of the women who come in here to me who are domestic violence survivors are not having a very easy time and do not hold well." She had an Indian accent. It took me a couple of minutes to process what she'd said.
Do not hold well?
Do I seriously look like I am not holding well?
I have dealt with a number of things that people really shouldn't have to deal with. And for the most part, I am okay. I have dealt with nightmares. I have dealt with an irrational fear of certain vehicles. I have dealt with an absolute terror of feeling anything close around my throat. I have dealt with extreme anger. I have dealt with an incredible amount of loss. And I'm okay. And for gahd's sake, I didn't need a damned counselor.
What, after all, could a counselor have done for me that I couldn't have done for myself?
Could a counselor have given me some sort of magic wisdom, or some sort of magic pill, to take away the anger I felt? Could a counselor have "fixed" my sense of loss, when I lost a roof over my head, a sense of family, a sense of trust, most of my belongings, most of my money, my job, and a bunch of my friends -- and all while I was pregnant? I mean, I think I was feeling exactly what I was supposed to be feeling. And I think that I dealt with most of it pretty well.
A person doesn't need a counselor to get through what I went through. A person needs a brain and a couple of really good friends and access to a bus pass and a computer. That's all.
I'm pissed off that this woman wanted me to see a counselor just because I got choked and pushed around by my ex. There's nothing WRONG with me because of that. Sure, things have gone badly in my life sometimes because of it, but a counselor isn't going to replace my CDs, get me my old job back, and fix my cracked sense of trust in other people.
I made a decision awhile ago that there was only one circumstance under which I would seek the assistance of a mental health professional. Specifically, if I, or somebody else, was being harmed, by somethat that was wrong with ME -- something over which I had little or no control -- I would seek help. So, if I were suddenly overwhelmed by an urge to kill myself (which I'm not), that would do harm to me, and it would probably harm my friends as well. If there were nothing I could do to alleviate my condition, I'd seek help. Or, if I found that I was being an incorrigible bitch to everybody around me, and couldn't understand why I was doing it, and was unable to stop, I would seek help.
But not for THIS...
Hell, I don't even think about Jake, or about Olympia, or about any of that, very often. I think about Evergreen a lot. I think about my students at the Writing Center. I think about my philosophy classes. And the rest of the past couple of years isn't worth dwelling on. Occasionally, I worry that the Jensens are going to throw out the rest of my stuff before I can get enough bus fare together to pick it up. Occasionally, I think about various things that Jake and I did together. I think about Jane sometimes. But I don't bother with most of the rest of it. It's worth noting and setting aside, but not dwelling upon.
And to the best of my knowledge, my thoughts and feelings and behaviors haven't been hurting myself or anybody else.
If they have been, let me know.
I'll have the DSHS lady make me an appointment right away.
Heh.
Besides, I'd trust a DSHS-recommended shrink with my head about as much as I'd trust a child molester to babysit. They'd probably tell me I'm narcissistic or something.
My head feels fuzzy today, kinda like I'm still tired. But I don't think I'm tired. Maybe I am. It's kind of hard to tell.