The End of my Therapy Journey

 I want to type this post out in order to clarify why I never ever want to attempt to go to therapy again. I have concluded that while it does help many people with many things, it’s not for me.  

When I was a high school senior, three of my teachers staged an intervention and made my mom take me for counseling, because I was very depressed. She was absolutely livid and demanded to know “what I was telling my teachers.”  She took me somewhere for a free consultation and all I remember is that she was mad for days when they told her I was suffering from depression. Later on, she made me go to a therapist (I was still under 18), and the therapist that she chose basically told me that I had no reason to be depressed. She reminded me that I had both parents still in the home, my parents met all of my financial needs, even took me on summer vacations. She reminded me that some kids had divorced parents and didn’t have their dad in the home. 

Fast forward to the start of my panic attacks. I went to a psychiatrist who diagnosed me as bipolar the first time I saw her. Then I tried to get therapy, was refused by someone who said they didn’t treat someone with bipolar, and went to someone who “specialized in” bipolar. By the end of my second session with her, she told me I wasn’t bipolar. And stopped seeing me. I told the original doctor, who then just changed what was written to anxiety and depression. 

Then in early 2025, I figured that I should probably get into therapy to sort of “maintain things” while things were going well. Only now days, you couldn’t just make an appointment and go. Now you have to “schedule a free 15 minute session” to “see if you’re a good fit.”  These 15 minute free sessions are absolute nightmares. There’s nothing worse than feeling like you’re on a job interview when looking for a therapist. 

I had one, and gave her the disclaimer that I didn’t grow up in a broken home. She assured me that was perfectly fine!  And that I still deserve therapy!  Then I started telling her a little bit about myself and that I regretted going back to school. She then said she didn’t “specialize” in people who regret their education, and her tone of voice changed. She wouldn’t see me because of that. 

It affected me a lot to be rejected like that. With the next free 15 minute session, I now had to give two disclaimers. I didn’t grow up in a broken home, and I also regret college. I also had to now give the disclaimer that regretting my own education didn’t mean that I was anti intellectual or anti college. I clarified that I fully realize that college is necessary for some people, it just wasn’t the right choice for me at the time. She said that I still deserved therapy even though I didn’t have a broken home, and that my college regret was also perfectly ok with her!  Then she asked what medication I took. I told her I took gabapentin for anxiety and she said “WOWWW!” She obviously had a huge problem with that. I explained that SSRI  and SNRI medications didn’t work for me and this does. She started talking about how SSRI’s work for so many other people.  I felt totally judged and didn’t want to proceed. 

It took several days again before I was ok with another free 15 minute session with another one. This time, I gave the disclaimer that I grew up with married parents, I regretted my college degree, and I take gabapentin for anxiety. I gave the disclaimers that I am not against college for other people, nor am I against SSRI’s for other people. These two things about me were just personal. She gave me this same pseudo-assurance that the others gave me and said it didn’t matter!  I still deserved therapy!  Then she proceeded to ask me who I live with. I told her about my husband, and somehow it got out that I met him at work. He had been my supervisor in 2023. And how at the time of that free 15 minute session (2025), I was still employed there. She said immediately that that could be a problem. Like he had some sort of power thing over me. I started freaking out that she would somehow make me leave my husband. I definitely didn’t tell her about our age gap. 

By now, I seemed to have a laundry list of disclaimers I had to give to potential therapists. I didn’t grow up in a broken home, I regretted my college degree, I take gabapentin and not an antidepressant, and I married my supervisor. Giving all of these disclaimers would now take almost the whole 15 minutes. However somehow I did still manage to find someone who agreed to see me, and she was my therapist for several months. 

I really just spent several sessions just talking and talking with her. She asked questions here and there, and eventually diagnosed me with PTSD. Then at the end of December, I remember telling her that my mom always claimed to have postpartum depression for 15 years. She told me that PPD generally doesn’t last 15 years, and that it was likely just regular depression.  But something shifted in her interpretation of my childhood. Before I told her about the 15 year long PPD claim, she was affirming of me and- now it was likely she was saying my mom had a reason for everything she did to me. After that, I was changing jobs in the beginning of 2026, and she claimed to have scheduling issues. She referred me to someone else, but didn’t tell the new person any of my history. So if I was going to start over with a new therapist I had to start completely over with my story, and that was exhausting. 

I finally took a long enough break to where I felt like I had enough strength to go through my whole entire story again. So I did. I gave all the disclaimers in the free 15 minute session and asked at the end of it, “Is there anything I told you that would make you not want to see me?” Because ALL of the things about me that therapists took issue with had nothing to do with each other. That meant that there might be something else somewhere in my story that would make a therapist either freak out or reject me completely. Since all of the other things were so unrelated, I couldn’t predict what that would be in order to leave it out. I just had to open completely up to these people and wait. 

Then my first session started, and I condensed my life story into the one hour session. At one point, she stopped me and asked me if I was sure something happened the way I was describing, or did it actually happen another way?  I was caught off guard and the anxiety began. We set up our next app for what would have been today at 4:00 pm. She told me all about EMDR, and I was grossly and extremely uncomfortable with it. I watched a video of it in session, and absolutely hated what I saw. It looked like a magic trick and mind control at the same time. I knew I couldn’t tell her my concerns because then she would be like “actually it’s not those things” and then I’d have no recourse. I emailed her to cancel and uncancel and she called me to reiterate that we didn’t have to do EMDR if I wasn’t comfortable with it. I told her what it looked like to me, and of course she tried to say “actually it’s not” but then pinned it on me saying “It’s not going to work on you if you are this uncomfortable with it.”  

The truth is, I am uncomfortable with therapy at all at this point. I was falling apart because she didn’t believe my story, and I was expected to go in front of her and let her do some hypnosis crazy crap that was extremely uncomfortable with. Even if we didn’t do EMDR, she still didn’t believe me. I spent the next few days in absolute panic attack hell, not wanting to go back at all, and feeling like I have to. 

Finally, I got to a point where I knew I couldn’t continue this circus anymore and emailed her that I needed to cancel for good. I called her out for not believing me, and she responded “Actually I was just trying to gather information.”  

Which, no she wasn’t. She literally asked, “Are you sure it was X and not YZ?”  I took her consideration and thought back to when the memory happened. It definitely wasn’t what she said it must have been, for several reasons. 

I am the one who was there. It was my lived experience and not hers. I felt immediate relief upon canceling that appointment, and have decided not to seek out any more therapists. They just won’t help me. It’s too stressful to “interview them”, because there’s no way I can get out all the disclaimers in such a short time. And I have no reason to believe them if they pull the “You still deserve it” crap. And how on earth am I supposed to feel comfortable opening up to people when I’m not going to be believed?  I know most people would say “Just find another therapist who will believe you.”  No. Do you mean find one who will pretend to believe me because they’re getting paid?  I don’t think so. 

I also wonder if this means I even “really have PTSD”. If things didn’t happen the way I remember them, then that negates the whole thing. Oh well. It would not be the first time I was undiagnosed with something. If only this really was “just like going to the doctor for a broken bone”. Then they’d know exactly what was wrong, exactly what to do, and there would be evidence of whatever happened. 

There is so much obsession out there with therapy that not everyone believes it’s valid to just quit going. The answer always has to be “find another one.”  As time consuming and exhausting as that process is, I can put all of that energy into literally anything else and benefit. It isn’t for me and never will be. 

Two Turtles and a Deer 🐢 🐢 🦌

 Today I did a big day trip doing my side jobs. I had a good offer on the Merchandiser app, and there were also good jobs on the IVueit app near the places that the Merchandiser app wanted me to go to. I had to go through some pretty rural areas, though.  It also rained heavily, and there were small turtles all over the roads. I accidentally killed two and cringed with guilt each time. However, there were about five or six turtles that I missed. 

Then on a two lane rural highway, a deer came out of nowhere and slammed into my drivers side door. I pulled over immediately and when I tried to open my door, it only opened half as much as it usually does. A man in a pick up truck who was behind me also stopped to ask if I was ok. He said he saw it but knew I couldn’t stop in time. 

Only my door is damaged, and the car drives fine. Therefore, I’m just not going to worry about the door for now. I only have liability insurance, so that’s not an issue. 

I called Kevin and told him. Then I called my mother and told her. The first thing she asked me was if Kevin was mad at me about it. (She didn’t ask if I was ok, because I clarified that I was ok before I told her I hit a deer).  But I mean, she could have asked if my car was ok before worrying “if Kevin was mad”. 

She asked that because my father would have been having a conniption fit right now. Kevin is more sensical. He knows deer don’t have all the smarts in the world. He drives through these rural areas for work all the time too. The deer came out of absolutely nowhere and seemed to be aiming for the side of my car, like a suicide mission. I’m actually more mad at my mother right now for thinking my husband would be “mad”. 

On another note, I made great money today (which will all probably have to go towards fixing the door), Anna is home (at her dad’s for now), and my weight is down to 197.4. Anna is starting training this Friday to be a camp counselor at the YMCA. It will run until July 31. I’m so proud of her and will most likely see her Thursday. 

Extreme Dread

 I have extreme dread about having to head to this old man’s house this morning. When my alarm went off, I literally started sobbing. Got up, took a shower anyway. When they accused the last caregiver of abuse, and then proved themselves to be racist, that makes me think that they will falsely accuse people. Including me. Luckily, there are cameras in the house. I keep telling myself that I need to give them a chance etc. But it should also be ok for me to want grace for myself too. In over 30 years of caring for children and elderly, there have probably been thousands of times that I was unfairly judged based on the actions of someone else. 

 The fact that gift card boss called me the damage control is going to my head a lot. I love it. My husband and my daughter told me to ask for a raise. Her cap pay rate is $2 more than I make now. I could ask for that and get it. 

I have been HEAVILY conditioned to never negotiate or ask for a raise. The “no one will ever hire you” narrative was strong with me. I was taught that if I ever asked for a raise, I’d be fired immediately and replaced with someone who will do it for less. Negotiating higher pay during n an interview was absolutely out of the question in my upbringing. If I ever did that, I just wouldn’t get the job. When gift card boss hired me, she had already hired me before discussing wages. She was LITERALLY prompting me to ask for more. She was. She’s not going to fire me and replace me immediately if I ask. She also just said she wishes she could clone me. 

I still have a lot of “dread” about going to see the racist guy tomorrow (Remember, he saw me and said “finally a white girl), not sure why I am experiencing the dread when I already met his family. I usually have this level of day before dread with new clients. 

Reminds me of the meme. “Do a rep for every lie you believed”. Haha. I’d be ripped. 

There’s another thing I want to mention. I’ve been married one year and one month. People always tell women who get married, “Have a plan for when he dies or leaves you.”  That’s good advice!  I also think you should have back up plans in case literally anything else doesn’t work out. But, the times I’ve been told this lately, I feel like I’ve explained Plans B, C, D, E, F and G and they all get shut down. Most of the back up plans I’ve mentioned are things I’ve done before and was successful at. I hate being told to have a plan, and then getting six whole plans criticized as if they aren’t good ideas. 

Then last night, I tried to tell my husband, “Let’s..” and then suggested he come with me to do some of the “if he died or left me” things. He actually said maybe if his mother was to die before his stepfather, and his stepfather wanted us to move out of the guest house. That’s actually more likely to happen than him leaving me any time soon, so maybe I gave him some ideas. 

As far as writing, I’m still doing the spiral notebook with the skipping five lines. I am working on three major writing projects. Only one of them is The Child Advocate. 

I Had The Last Laugh

 It’s only about 40 days until my daughter Anna turns 19 years old. (And oh yeah that must mean that it’s the 19th anniversary of the disappearance of Madeline McCann), but I was thinking today how, when it comes to motherhood, I really had the last laugh. 

I started working in a daycare as a teacher’s aide when I was 16. In order to keep that job, I had to take child development at my high school during Saturday school. Saturday school was from 8-noon and could be either detention, or classes for kids who were behind or wanted to get ahead. That used to make me say I wanted to have kids someday, and I got a lot of opposition to that. I think most people my age and younger did. The exception would have been if they were devout Catholics or Mormon. 

When I think of how it ended up, there are just so many things I could bring up about my daughter and my experience raising her. Let’s start with the fact that I was one and done. Isn’t that the next best thing to being child free?  (I guess to some it is, and some it’s not).  But I waited until I was 28 to get pregnant, and I got an IUD right after my 6 week postpartum exam. Contraceptives have always worked for me. I went off one time, and that’s when I got her. My mom’s story with this issue was exactly the same. She stopped taking the pill one month, the next month she got me, and she also had an IUD right after I was born and was also one and done. 

Fast forward to today. My daughter Anna is studying at the University.  She’s a STEM major. She has been to four anti-ICE protests and two No Kings protests on her university campus this year. She is in the animal sciences club and has done service projects in groups at shelters and sanctuaries. She is coming back to town this summer, will split her time between me and her dad, and is most likely going to work as a camp counselor. 

She was volunteering at the local animal shelter in her father’s neighborhood starting at age 14. 14 year olds could volunteer only if a parent went with them, and I did. She started going alone at age 15. She has always put herself on the line to stick up for classmates being bullied. She doesn’t date, because she hasn’t found the right person, and that’s ok with her. She’s very emotionally intelligent and therapy savvy. She was an easy newborn, a hilarious toddler, and a smart and eager school kid  

I mean I really did win the lottery with her. This could never be said out loud, but I really wish I could go back in time and brag that I did everything right, even the things that were hard. 

Maybe if I had a second, third, fourth etc child, it wouldn’t have been great. When she was about a year old, I had a friend who was remembering her younger brother who died by suicide. She said once, she and her mom were sitting across a table, and her mom said that if she had known early in her pregnancy that his life would be so difficult, she would have had an abortion. I could see that. We wish we could go back and do a lot of things differently. As for me though, nothing with parenting would I have done differently. I would have had more kids- but only if they were guaranteed to come out equally as wonderful. 

But then again, assuming this about any future kids I had is just wrong. They also could have been great just like Anna. I always had to assume things about different aspects of life that were just assumptions I made to pacify someone else’s narrative 

Freaky Friday

 I went to see this new client today with “bad caregiver experiences”. His daughter opened the door and had attitude immediately. I sighed, but didn’t let her see me sigh. She didn’t leave for work until about an hour after I got there, and in that hour’s time, I did my damage control Magick, and she was talking to me cordially. She pointed to a closed door and said, “We’re in the process of moving my son into that room.”  Across the hall from that door was her dad’s room. She introduced me to him, and he said, “Ugh finally a white girl.”  Oh gosh. Now that begs the question. Were they bad caregivers, or is he racist?  Both things can be true. His daughter later apologized for that comment and said, “It’s the generation.”  I told her I understand, but in my experience, most elderly people who are racist will at least try and hide it. 

About four hours later, I was rinsing dishes, turned around, and there was a creepy bald guy about 30 years old just standing there awkwardly staring at me. I did not hear or see him come in. I immediately screamed bloody murder.  The guy said, “Hello!  I live here! Didn’t mean to scare you!”  I would have gotten a kitchen knife if the old man hadn’t said, “That’s my grandson.”  Oh- I remembered his daughter had told me they were moving her son into the one bedroom. I guess I just assumed her son wasn’t currently in the house. 

I apologized for screaming. At 1:00 pm, the old man’s granddaughter showed up to take over. She is his caregiver until the evening and probably gets paid through one of those agencies that does all the paperwork to allow people to get paid to care for family members. 

As of right now, 6:00 pm on Friday, I am scheduled with him next week on Monday, Wednesday and Friday from 7:00 am-1:00 pm. I think that’s when his granddaughter has classes?  I could be wrong, but those are our only hours with him. I was actually kind of hoping they’d call GCboss and be like “nah we don’t like the white girl either.”  But it’s ok. I should buy a shirt that says Damage Control. 

I dislike that I’m doing this with my life again, but it is what it is. I do not know what else to do with my life anymore. I recently found out that someone at the company I used to work for (that my husband still works for) actually said I called out once a week when called for my references. That is a lie. However, it didn’t prevent me from finding employment, nor do I have access to old timesheets or schedules that can prove that isn’t true. Even if I did try to do something about what I heard they said, they might retaliate against my husband if I do. I was really shocked when I found this out, because for so long I thought things were going great there. 

I do have to eventually redo my resume so that it leaves the inventory service completely off. That sucks. At least I met a husband there. 

I’m The Damage Control

 First of all, my 89 year old client is home from the ER and doing ok. I will see her this Saturday and Sunday. 

On Monday, I worked 11-7, and by 4:45 pm there was still no schedule for the rest of the week. So I texted gift card boss, “Am I working tomorrow?”  She responded, “I’m still working on the schedule, but I have you off tomorrow and Wednesday.” 

Ok great!  I was relieved, especially after having to call EMS on Sunday. Then Tuesday morning at 8:04 am, gift card boss texts me asking if I would work with a man with XYZ health condition who wants Monday, Wednesday and Friday for six hour shifts. I wanted to cry. I then told her that I was busy helping my husband the next two days (which is JUST when she said my days off would be), but after that yes. She scheduled me tomorrow which is Friday with him and also on Monday the 4th. I read his notes, and it says he had a private pay caregiver several months ago that was abusive. They apparently also had a problem with someone gift card boss sent. She copy pasted a text from his daughter letting her know what they wanted, and the whole thing was snarky and kind of bitchy, including saying “someone who knows how to follow instructions on a frozen meal.”  

I started getting the dread, but who knows he might be awesome. I had the dread before I met the poodle couple too, but they were awesome. Then yesterday, I was venting to my husband about it through tears. It really is hard on me to go see different people all the time. He tried to compare it to inventory, going to different stores all the time. I don’t have to explain what an inaccurate comparison that is- going into people’s homes and caring for them is obviously way different than doing inventory. I didn’t rub this in to my husband, though. He already always says he could never be a caregiver. I know he can’t!  In fact once he asked me what things to I have to do for one of them, and I started the basic to do list with “well I empty the catheter-“ and he was like 🤚 ok that’s enough information. 

Then after the vent, I get another text from GCboss talking about May 9. It’s hard to imagine May 9 on April 29 when every day changes so much. I asked, “is it someone I’ve worked with before?” She said no so I texted asking if I could call really Quick and she said sure. 

I basically mentioned tactfully that I have gone to see a lot of new clients in the about 3 months that I’ve worked there. I kind of asked why and then asked if clients didn’t like me and were asking her not to send me back. She said, “No, the opposite actually.”  She explained that when her clients have a bad experience with another caregiver and tell her not to send that person back, she sends me because she knows I can make a good rescue-impression. Then, she called me the damage control. 

Now, that’s wild to me. I am expected to assume the worst about myself. I’m expected to see myself as the damage, not the damage control. As a matter of fact, it’s too bad this was a phone conversation and not over text. I would have screenshotted it for the haters.