My Therapist


Today was my day to see my therapist. I started seeing her back when I was 24, a couple of years before I met Joan. I had just finished a year of chemo, and was still dealing with having cancer, and being so weak. I had severe anger control issues, and I was angry all the time at everyone. I hated all healthy people, because I didn’t think I was going to be able to raise my beautiful baby girl.

My therapist was wonderful. First we worked on my anger, then we started dealing with my other issues. Even my therapist had a real hard time when we would talk about my rape, or the harassment I suffered. She diagnosed me the first session with severe depression, severe anxiety, and 2 types of PTSD, one from the cancer, one from sexual trauma. She told me in the beginning that I would be in therapy for the rest of my life.

I worked really hard at the therapy, took everything to heart. I wanted to be well for my baby, however long I was with her. So, after 2 years, she asked why was I still seeing her. We decided to cut back on the therapy, and try to deal more with the MST and the abuse I suffered as a child, but it always seemed like it was more difficult for her than it was for me.

At one point, I lost my insurance, and she kept seeing me for over a year on a pro bono basis. And I thanked her the other day for that, since she never knew what that meant to me. By 1998, we were pretty much done with my therapy, I was only seeing her once a month. Usually all we talked about was how I was being tortured by my unit, and how I was going to deal with it. I didn’t see her again for a few years, until my oncologist sent me back to her because they found an inoperable brain tumor, and thought I needed to talk about it. I saw her a couple of times, and we parted ways again. I need to state that I still have depression and anxiety, as well as the PTSD, but luckily I am kind of functional, and have learned how to live with it. No amount of therapy is going to make any of it go away, and since I can’t be medicated, all we could hope for was living with it. She gave me the tools to try, and I went on my way.

Then I started having stress/health issues the last few months, and so my doctors both agreed that I needed to go back to her. I am in my 2nd month of therapy again, this time with a mountain more of crap to deal with. We are starting to deal with the stress I am facing with filing my claim, but she thinks I need to see a VA therapist for dealing with the actual MST/PTSD issues. So does Joan. But I don’t trust therapists very easily, so starting out with a stranger scares the crap out of me. Plus, I really didn’t want to rehash all of that crap over and over and over again, it hurt enough the first time.

 But for right now, I have therapist I can trust, and one who kept copious records all those years. My next appointment in 2 weeks, she is bringing in my 4 volumes of medical files, so we can go over them, so when she hands them over to the VA for my Comp & Pen documentation, at least I will know what is in them. And, as she said, it will also be a refresher for me, since my mind has blocked out a lot of things. So, I am lining up all the things I need to proceed in my quest for the pension that was robbed from me. I don’t say justice, since that will never happen. But maybe the pension will help a little. Outside of castration or a long, painful death to the men who raped me, I don’t see anything that resembles justice happening.

Wish me luck!

Brigid

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