Wanda's Ramblings

Therapy

You know, I have been in and out of therapy my whole life. I can remember my mother dragging me to counseling as young as 12 years old. The counselors I saw in the 70s were all women, dressed very provocatively, and were very progressive. Psychotherapy was still in its infancy for the common folk like us and it showed. I remember they were always “going to try something” and when there was no change try something else.

I remember they did stuff like recording me speaking on these tapes and disks and then listening to it back. I am not sure what we were supposed to get out of it, but I never had any improvement. I guess the crux of the problem was no one ever told me why I was in therapy or what we were trying to accomplish. My mother would take us down to this building behind one of the big hospitals in Denver and I am pretty sure she saw someone as well when we were there. She most definitely needed to.

Years later after having an education in counseling and counseling theories, I can see some of the stuff they were trying but they were way off the mark. It was all new and I think they figured if they did the stuff they were taught it would all work out. The thing is, they had no idea what was really wrong with me and never asked the right questions. They came from this place where counseling knowledge and theories of the day based everything on the patient being flawed in some way or having fallacious thinking and could be fixed.

What I know today is that I was damaged and needed repair not reprogramming. They tried though. My mother was desperate to find something to fix one or both of us. She had to know the stuff she was doing with me at home, physical and sexual abuse, was the root cause. I think she was hoping these counselors could fix her or repair me. In the end, I just had a lot of weird talks and experiences with all these nice yet presumptuous ladies.

I saw a handful of therapists over the years in attempts to fix myself but in the end, none of them truly did any good. Probably because I was never honest with them and did not understand the problem myself.

Fast forward to me getting sober and beginning to understand the problem and actually wanting to get better. I had to want to get better enough to finally be unconditionally honest with my therapist. The only therapist to really help me was Alan. I think a good part of it was his empathy and giving of himself as well because he would be exhausted by the end of most of our sessions.

When Alan died suddenly from Covid I was again adrift and left halfway through our work. A local mental health clearing house helped a bit, but they just want to throw meds at everything and make monetizing diagnoses. The therapist there also abandoned me with only two weeks’ notice. Abandonment and betrayal are my worst triggers to boot.

I finally found another therapist who could handle my complicated situation and she did help me a lot but, in the end, she was worse than all the rest because she abandoned our therapeutic relationship without notice. I do not think I have another trust in me at this point, so I have been going it alone for now.

I am writing an autobiography and that seems to be the best therapy for me right now. I am not wanting to discourage anyone from seeking therapy because I do firmly believe in it. I am saying to make sure you get a trustworthy counselor and get a commitment to not abandon your case without at least a separation plan.