It's Kind of a Long Story... about THERAPY (Part III)

Trauma-o-rama

Hey Drama Goblins!

Thank you for your patience with the pause in the therapy trilogy. I had a lovely birthday and…. a minor meltdown towards the end of the week. Nothing tragic or dramatic, but I could feel a shift in my mood and behavior away from where I want it to be.

I was a little weepy. More than a little anxious.

Overall, my mental health is getting better, but as I often say, “Nothing is everything.” I will have side-steps and backslides. Good days and bad days.

Having this space to work it out helps so much.

I’m so glad you’re here,

-Lara

More Than Half the Days…

Short story: 

My long string of less-than-skilled mental health professionals continued, and I found a new path to care in an unlikely place.

Long story:

After I was fired by Two Chairs, the Better Help-like virtual therapy contractor, for ratting out Dr. Messy Bun, I was thrown back into the Kaiser combine.

The muckety-muck at Two Chairs said:

“Based on the concerns and preferences you have shared, it seems that Two Chairs is not the appropriate setting to meet those needs. I believe you would benefit from a combination of trauma-informed approach and Dialectical behavioral therapy in a more structured setting.”

She also kept me on the email chain between her and a colleague about my case. They didn’t say anything unprofessional, but they referred to me as “her” and “the patient” when I was right there in the “cc.”

I called someone at some Kaiser number and told them that Two Chairs recommended trauma-informed and DBT. What I got was Adult Life Skills and Dr. MmmHmm.

Dr. MmmHmm (December 2023)

Rather than ongoing therapy, trauma-informed, DBT, or otherwise, I was given three sessions with a psychologist that were specifically *not* therapy but meant to be check-ins, plus access to an online class called Adult Life Skills.

Adult. Life. Skills.

No adult wants to take a class called Adult. Life. Skills. As a friend said, "It sounds like they’re teaching you how to make change and get on the right bus.”

In my first appointment (not therapy, appointment. remember, this isn’t therapy) with Dr. MmmHmm I tried to give him the rundown of my last few years. But readers you know it took me eight episodes just to tell you the Sister Ex Saga. I had to barely skim the surface and give the lowest of the highlights.

He had a voice I can only describe as overly soft and completely toneless. Nothing I said really seemed to register.

And he had no sense of humor. When I suggested that if he has any pull with the Kaiser brass, he should ask them to change the name of Adult Life Skills. He seemed almost… offended. Had he come up with that name?

He said he’d taught the class in the past, and that the feedback was that the content was helpful.

I said, “I’m not talking about the quality of the content, I’m talking about the name of the class. No one wants to say, ‘Hello! I’m here for Adult Life Skills.”

He had no idea what I was talking about. He droned about the content again and I let it go.

And, the content of Adult Life Skills wasn’t bad, and the teacher was OK, but it was awkward to be in a group Zoom. The other people were weird. And, it’s a good thing I was working at home, because the class was in the middle of the day. Totally inaccessible to people with real jobs. There are so many barriers to care.

Before any Kaiser mental health appointment, they have you take a self-assessment. with questions like:

Sometimes the screening includes questions about domestic violence, sometimes it doesn’t. I can’t figure out if there’s a pattern to it. I hope someone who is in a DV situation gets the right one.

When I fill out the assessment, in my mind I talk back to it and add context and nuance and explanation for my answers. But Kaiser isn’t big on nuance.

At my second session with Dr. MmmHmm, my mood was what I called “artificially inflated.” It was Q4 2023. I had a lot of social plans and entertaining and fun things planned. I was still getting reacquainted with my house and my stuff. I started this Substack and picked up my resin charm-making hobby. I was feeling creative and confident.

I still considered myself on leave, but I had a few freelance jobs come my way that were easy to execute, kept me feeling busy and connected, and put a few bucks in my pocket.

So when I filled out the assessment, my score was pretty good.

And I knew, I knew this was a bubble. After the first of the year the holiday hub bub would be behind me, Cinderella would turn into a pumpkin, and I’d have to figure out my Real Life. No more leave. No more job. Unemployment will only pay out so much.

At our appointment, Dr. MmmHmm let me go on for a full 20 minutes before he said anything other than “MmmHmm.” It was like a Saturday Night Live parody of turn-of-the-century Freudian psychoanalysis.

When he finally did pipe in, he said, “Kaiser is solution-oriented. Your assessment doesn’t indicate further treatment.”

I explained that my numbers were artificially high, and what was ahead of me.

He said, “I hear you saying you don’t know what’s coming for you.”

I said, “No, I know exactly what’s coming, that’s wht I need help and support.”

I don’t remember the details of the rest of the conversation, but I remember it was very frustrating, and unsatisfying and ended with me declining to have a third appointment.

I knew my bubble would burst, but I didn’t expect it to be so soon.

I wasn’t sure where this left me. Which number to call. What to ask for and who to ask for it from. It felt like Kaiser had washed their hands of me.

I was starting to feel like I was unfixable. Either that or how I was feeling was as good as it was ever going to get.

Fast forward a few months. At my regular cervical screening, along with the form where they ask about your period and alcohol use, was a sheet with the same mental health assessment questions that I took before each session or class.

I had never had that happen before. I wondered if they gave it to me because I was tagged in the system as a mental patient. I remember thinking, “Why are you even bothering to ask me these questions? There’s nothing you seem to be able to do for me.”

When I surrendered the clipboard, they didn’t say anything about that form. It wasn’t until I was lying down, in a gown, between the breast and pelvic exams, that the Nurse Practitioner brought up my mental health score. Really? You couldn’t have done this while I was dressed and sitting up?

She said there was “someone in our practice” who could help. I had no idea what that meant. The gyno department had a secret shrink they bring out for cases like mine? I said, “Sure, I’ll take any help I can get.”

I’m going to pause here and say that after every frustrating, upsetting, or weird appointment or session, I wrote to the practitioner immediately to document the experience and give my perspective and feedback. I’m generally an easy-going gal, but I am relentless in my need to be understood. There are some things I cannot let go unspoken or walk away from.

The shrinks all low-key gaslighted me. Pinned the issues on me. Took no responsibility for their contributions. It was maddening. It was like being in a relationship with a narcissist. I thought of the women over the decades who have been hospitalized, lobotomized, or worse by mental health care practitioners who would never, ever acknowledge they did something wrong.

I’ll give the Nurse Practitioner credit, she apologized. Well, eventually she did. I emailed her through the Kaiser system, and her supervisor responded. I suppose I should be glad it was being taken seriously, but I didn’t like that a note I sent to my healthcare provider being read by someone else without my consent. Although who knows, it’s possible somewhere within the deep reaches Kaiser I signed something that signed all my rights away.

A week or so later, I got a call in the middle of the day from someone in the mental health department. I thought it was weird and unnerving to get a call without haveing made an appointment. I’m lucky I work at home, someone else might be in an open office or factory floor or classroom and not have a private, quiet place to take a very personal call.

This guy again stressed Kaiser’s “solution-oriented” approach. They don’t offer long-term therapy. They want you to have a specific problem, with symptoms that are easily self-measured, and solvable within a set number of weeks. The mental health version of a neat, easy-to-diagnose and treat a condition like the flu or a broken bone. I don’t know what that might be. Maybe fear of flying? Or nail-biting?

That’s not how my brain works. Is it how anyone’s works?

He asked me “How will you know when the treatment is successful.”

I told him, “When my three most concerning maladaptive behaviors: overeating, over-dependence on my phone, and inability to concentrate are under control.”

He said, “You don’t want to do any of those things at all?”

I laughed, “Sure, if that’s possible. Are you suggesting it is?”

I don’t remember what he said, but I remember his voice sounded like the host of an insipid children’s television show, and I couldn’t wait to get off the phone.

I was referred to Growth, yet another Better Help-like service. Kaiser is like an un-fun funhouse. There are all of these hidden hallways and secret doors with different programs, policies, and practitioners behind each one.

Dr. Plaid (March 2024 - ???)

Unlike Two Chairs, Growth didn’t match me with a shrink, they offered a long list to choose from. It was kind of like a dating app. There was a photo and a brief profile. And like dating apps, most of the profiles were dull with very little to go on. At least it was easy to eliminate the ones with a Christian-based approach.

I was drawn to Dr. Plaid because, unlike her colleagues, she didn’t lead with where she went to school. Her first line included the word “trauma,” and she had a cute haircut, a nice smile, and a plaid shirt. I gave her a go.

Readers, at the risk of jinxing it. I like Dr. Plaid.

She disarmed me immediately in our first session. She talks in a regular voice. She smiles. She laughs. She seems like a normal person. She listens and mirrors back. Her questions are perceptive.

She made a “holding back a laugh” face when I told her about some of the other shrinks that have come before her. She maintained her professionalism, but said, “I am so sorry you went through that.” She said she would research and think about ways to open the session other than “How are you?” She understood why I was so undone by a haircut.

I’m feeling hopeful. We’ve only had two sessions (and just my luck, had to skip a week due to her previously planned vacation) but the vibe is good. Better than I’ve had since Kristen, my grief counselor. And while that didn’t end well, it was what I needed when I needed it.

I hope this is what I need. I need it.

Know someone who would get something out of that story? Please share.

Lara sez…

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80s Deep Cut of the Week! An excellent example of 80s synth-pop!

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Before I let you go…

Win a notebook with the Drama Goblin Urban Dictionary entry:

“Someone who gleefully and unashamedly welcomes and shares (relatively) harmless gossip.”

I ordered ‘em by accident - my good can be your gain!

Two ways to win!

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