Tuesday, August 7, 2012

What is the purpose of therapy?

After all these years, I never figured that one out.

There are times I have used it to vent, to tell my story, to grieve over the life I lost, to plan a new life. And that was all good. But beyond that, what is the point? I hated DBT and CBT. When someone mentions "coping mechanisms" I want to strangle them. I don't want to cope. I don't want to just get through life. I want life to be better. And except for one time in my life, when my therapist really helped me to put my life back together after I had lost everything, I don't think it has ever been that life changing. Not what I am looking for.

So I think maybe I made a mistake, by quitting therapy, because I am doing so badly right now- although I really don't think it had much to do with therapy, and I don't know how that would change anything. I just feel like going to therapy would be "doing something." Even if it isn't. But then there is another part of me that doesn't want to admit that I may have made a mistake in quitting, doesn't want to admit that I may "need" therapy, that I can't handle this on my own. The idea of going back to therapy makes me feel weak.

When I went in to my last session, I told my therapist that I was re-thinking therapy. And I thought we would have some kind of discussion about it. I thought she would tell me what therapy could do for me, etc. But she didn't. So maybe she agrees, I am not someone who can be helped by therapy. I feel like she should have said something in defense of therapy- if not with her, than with someone else- if she thought it would help me. But she didn't. So perhaps this is not a modality that can help me.

So I am seeking the biological fix right now. Today I decided to give a wellbutrin increase another chance- because until my depression gets to be a little bit less, I really can't do much else. Yesterday at the end of the work day- a day when nothing bad happened, and my mood "should" have been better- I was so depressed I just sat at my desk with my head in my hands, feeling like I did not even have the energy to get up and walk across the parking lot to get to my car to drive home. Of course, I eventually did muster up the energy- but felt like I would collapse every step of the way.

And nobody knows how bad it is. I put on a pretty good show, most of the time. Sometimes I even fool myself for a few minutes- I think how bad can it be if I am doing such and such? I remember one of my first therapists told me, "fake it 'till you make it." And then he criticized me for not showing my feelings. Well, you can't have it both ways. If you spend a good portion of your life faking it, it gets hard to turn on and off. It becomes second nature around other people.

But do I want to spend $125 a week so that I can have someone know how bad it is? What is the point of that? It is true, my health insurance plan is "working." If there were good people "in network" and I just had a small co-pay, I'd probably still be in therapy. But to be private paying for therapy- it just really makes me want to know why.

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