Tomorrow should prove to be an interesting day. The State of Washington is sending me to visit a psychiatrist. Since, unlike a lot of people, I don't relish meeting new folks, I'm understandably getting a bit anxious.
I'm being sent to see the shrink as part of my appeal for the denial benefits for the state medicaid program. I have no idea how this "visit" is going to go or what the learned professional plans to do. It may end up being a perfunctory visit not lasting more than 30 minutes OR it may last for several hours. I just don't know.
My only hope is that this interview goes better than the last time I was sent to a psychiatrist!
The last time was nearly 40 years ago. My parents were in the process of divorcing and then remarrying (only to divorce each other again). They were in couples counseling and each had individual sessions as well. Their chief psychiatrist decided it would be a good idea for 13 year old me and my 7 year old brother to "talk out our feelings" too.
So, against my wishes, I was dispatched to see Dr. L. I played the game by making sure I didn't disclose ANYTHING that was actually bothering me. I basically told the guy what I thought he wanted to hear. After a few sessions, learned Dr. L decided that I was depressed and very anxious -- what child wouldn't be with his parents engaged in nightly [non-physical] pitched battles?
He prescribed an anti-depressant. It didn't work as intended. Instead of making me less anxious, it made me anxious times five. So, another one was tried. Same result. A third medication was written out and it made me more manic than ever. Fortunately, someone got the hint and he quit trying to medicate me.
Now, I'm not suggesting that I couldn't have benefited from seeing a professional. As I've written in this space before, my junior high years were hell. I was a social misfit consumed by loneliness, self-doubt and anxiety. My best comrades were all imaginary.
Unfortunately, my parents sent me to a fellow who, obviously, didn't have a lot of experience dealing with weirdos like me. His basic methodology seemed to be a little talk and a lot of medication -- drugs that didn't help me at all!
That, however, hasn't been my only negative experience with a psychiatrist. When I was a state social worker, one of my assignments was working with abused and neglected children at a residential facility in Monticello, Arkansas. One of my charges -- who I will identify as X -- was a very seductive 15 year old girl.
X knew how to make this fresh-out-of-college social worker very uncomfortable. She had a propensity for sticking her hands down my pants (not in my underwear, thank goodness) and telling me all the wonderful things she could do for me!!
As I've indicated previously, I don't like being touched by non-family members and I even have issues with being touched by family members a good deal of the time. So, I think it's very easy to imagine how unglued I became with these unwanted advances. I would immediately remove her hand and scream at her that this was not appropriate.
But you know what the residential facility's shrink told me to do? He said that X was trying to elicit a particular response from me and so I SHOULD ALLOW HER to put her hands down my pants and then act completely disinterested. He reasoned that, if I followed his advice, she would grow tired of my lack of response and discontinue the behavior.
I thought this professional opinion was pure malarkey. However, I was a very young and inexperienced social worker and he was a well-respected psychiatrist. So, even though his advice made me very uncomfortable, I reluctantly followed the script.
X didn't seem to grow disinterested at all; in fact, my forced nonchalance seemed to embolden her. Things may have progressed to a very bad circumstance, but X pulled her stunt one time when my then-wife was present. Mrs. Smith grabbed X's hand and told her if she ever tried that again, she would be very, VERY sorry. (I had to spend the better part of 2 weeks explaining to the wife why I had allowed X to behave in this manner without protest!)
She never tried it again.
Needless to say, after these two different experiences with persons in the field of psychiatry, I'm very nervous about tomorrow.
I'm being sent to see the shrink as part of my appeal for the denial benefits for the state medicaid program. I have no idea how this "visit" is going to go or what the learned professional plans to do. It may end up being a perfunctory visit not lasting more than 30 minutes OR it may last for several hours. I just don't know.
My only hope is that this interview goes better than the last time I was sent to a psychiatrist!
The last time was nearly 40 years ago. My parents were in the process of divorcing and then remarrying (only to divorce each other again). They were in couples counseling and each had individual sessions as well. Their chief psychiatrist decided it would be a good idea for 13 year old me and my 7 year old brother to "talk out our feelings" too.
So, against my wishes, I was dispatched to see Dr. L. I played the game by making sure I didn't disclose ANYTHING that was actually bothering me. I basically told the guy what I thought he wanted to hear. After a few sessions, learned Dr. L decided that I was depressed and very anxious -- what child wouldn't be with his parents engaged in nightly [non-physical] pitched battles?
He prescribed an anti-depressant. It didn't work as intended. Instead of making me less anxious, it made me anxious times five. So, another one was tried. Same result. A third medication was written out and it made me more manic than ever. Fortunately, someone got the hint and he quit trying to medicate me.
Now, I'm not suggesting that I couldn't have benefited from seeing a professional. As I've written in this space before, my junior high years were hell. I was a social misfit consumed by loneliness, self-doubt and anxiety. My best comrades were all imaginary.
Unfortunately, my parents sent me to a fellow who, obviously, didn't have a lot of experience dealing with weirdos like me. His basic methodology seemed to be a little talk and a lot of medication -- drugs that didn't help me at all!
That, however, hasn't been my only negative experience with a psychiatrist. When I was a state social worker, one of my assignments was working with abused and neglected children at a residential facility in Monticello, Arkansas. One of my charges -- who I will identify as X -- was a very seductive 15 year old girl.
X knew how to make this fresh-out-of-college social worker very uncomfortable. She had a propensity for sticking her hands down my pants (not in my underwear, thank goodness) and telling me all the wonderful things she could do for me!!
As I've indicated previously, I don't like being touched by non-family members and I even have issues with being touched by family members a good deal of the time. So, I think it's very easy to imagine how unglued I became with these unwanted advances. I would immediately remove her hand and scream at her that this was not appropriate.
But you know what the residential facility's shrink told me to do? He said that X was trying to elicit a particular response from me and so I SHOULD ALLOW HER to put her hands down my pants and then act completely disinterested. He reasoned that, if I followed his advice, she would grow tired of my lack of response and discontinue the behavior.
I thought this professional opinion was pure malarkey. However, I was a very young and inexperienced social worker and he was a well-respected psychiatrist. So, even though his advice made me very uncomfortable, I reluctantly followed the script.
X didn't seem to grow disinterested at all; in fact, my forced nonchalance seemed to embolden her. Things may have progressed to a very bad circumstance, but X pulled her stunt one time when my then-wife was present. Mrs. Smith grabbed X's hand and told her if she ever tried that again, she would be very, VERY sorry. (I had to spend the better part of 2 weeks explaining to the wife why I had allowed X to behave in this manner without protest!)
She never tried it again.
Needless to say, after these two different experiences with persons in the field of psychiatry, I'm very nervous about tomorrow.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Comments are unmoderated, so you can write whatever you want.