When It's Time To Quit

As you know, after my short stay in the Rubber Room Regency, I enrolled in their Outpatient Program. I really didn't have any clue what was involved in this program; however the Discharge Agent assured me it was a stellar place to use up some quality time, and I'd be all the more healthy for being there. A few things were left out, like how I pay for it, and that their billing system was based on an abacus missing a few stones, but the program in general would be good for my mental stability.

The basis of this program is primarily in-house-lunatic-run. That means we go to class and while there are session leaders, nurses charting our every thought, and actual Therapists (T!), we make the program work by helping each other out. Develop relationships, participate in the classes (which run the gamut from how to deal with anxiety issues to depression to mania to basic health), and then when the Therapists have their sessions (notice the upper case *T* on therapist!), we are to "process."

Processing is fun for everyone! This is when the Therapist (T!) asks if anyone has any pressing issues to be worked out during that particular hour (um, 45 minutes). If we're playing coy, the Therapist (T!) will draw the loonie out until he/she spills it. Once there's been the requisite spilling of guts, the group gets to offer their suggestions as to what can be done to help the situation improve. Since many of the whacknuts have been there for a considerable length of time, there is ALWAYS a contingent who want to tell the others how to fix themselves. It's a fine time to show their friends, their frenemies (oh yes), the newbies and the Therapist (T!) just how much they've learned.

This is one aspect of the program I have always taken very seriously. When people share during this portion of the program, it often has an air of seriousness. Now don't get me wrong. Some of it makes me scratch my head and go "huh?" But I always give it credence when it's due, because these are people who need legitimate help. Typically I wait until others have offered their input so that I can hear the answers of the person in crisis, so I can get a better idea of his/her state of mind before I offer any of my own insights.

It's important to note I've been doing Therapy (T!) for nearly eight years. Three of those years were with a psychotherapist in my old town before my divorce from the abuser who worked so hard to ruin my life, and the last five with Dr. Doolittle, who has guided me through my ... "entry and education"... into the world of mental illness. Bastard. Anyway. Because of this, I have learned to listen and try to find the real issue beneath the problem. So often people attempt to fix issues with bandaid solutions rather than looking deeper to see what lies beneath, drawing it to the surface and working with the REAL concern.

I like to think I've helped. I'm self-centered that way ~ and I am also realistic and smart enough to know that most of these people forget what I say as soon as the Therapist (T!) releases us from Group. And that makes me sad, because for some, I think I may have done some good if they had opened their minds enough to hear. But when you have many others who offer Hello Kitty bandaids, it's just a whole lot easier to ignore the things that are hard to implement.

Wow, did I ever go off track. What was the name of this post? Oh yeah, When It's Time To Quit.

There have been a few times when it has been MY turn to process. Early on it was like pulling teeth. I HATE TALKING IN FRONT OF STRANGERS. But I learned and eventually started to share on my own. There were a few people who offered assistance when I shared, but the thing was, I didn't really give too much of myself for them to get into. I had a real fear of having them see my dark side, and the one time I let loose, I paid for it in spades: I alienated my few friends for several days and had to write letters of apology. Ugh. They were gracious enough to understand.

Recently I decided it was time to share. After a particularly painful incident at home, I brought it up at Processing Class. After the Therapist (T!) discussed it with me, he opened the floor to the rest of the class for help. You could have heard a pin drop. I waited ... he waited ... we waited ...

So there it was. What I had offered to the others was certainly not going to be coming back in my direction. I don't know if it was simply too difficult, too odd, too uncomfortable, or what. But there was no one in that class who could offer me any insight. That's when I realized that all the arguing I had done with my Insurance Company to stay in the program had been a waste of precious mental energy. These people didn't need or want me, so what the HELL was I doing there?

There are a few people I'll miss; I made friends with a couple of women who are quite interesting. None of them truly get or understand the real me, but that's something that died with my best friend. What they offer is camaraderie, and an understanding of my illness. There is a new woman I felt had the potential to become a great friend and I'm disappointed that I cannot foster that friendship as she has no way to stay in touch.

And behold! There is one Therapist (T!) who actually has his head on straight and a true sense of humour. While I don't think I ever let him see quite what he wanted to see (or too much?), I did occasionally verbally vomit on him. The other Therapists (T!) tended to irritate me; my feeling was that they had a script for each crisis, and rarely deviated. That really annoys me. If you're going to phone in your workday, do it from ... home?

The psychiatrist who treated me during my stay was fantastic. I'd like to keep her, but unfortunately I have to go back to Dr. Dreadful who frightens small children and causes them to shrink back into doorways as she passes ... I've seen rabid raccoons with better bedside manner.

I have one more week of the program. But since I was sick this week, I can carry it over another. After that, I have a Discharge Program which lasts several weeks/months. It simply allows me to wean off the program gradually, but since it means I have to attend earlier in the day, and process with a Therapist (T!) whose ego is as inflated as his waistline, I'm not terribly keen. Consequently I haven't decided on whether or not I'll attend. It WOULD give me the ability to see the women I care about, but I'd have to be there ridiculously early (I am NOT a morning person), and the classes I attend are nursing (big deal!) and processing with the Therapist (T!) Terrorist.

Alas, my stay at the Rubber Room Regency is coming to an end. I'm not sure what I'll do to fill the time, since one of its advantages was getting me out of bed, dressed and out of the house. However, if I learned anything I will have to actually DO them: find another reason to get up and moving; make an effort to leave the house. Make that commitment to keep in touch with the friends I've made, and see if maybe, just maybe, some of what that Therapist (T!) said was right: I really can be ok.