Nowhere To Go

I had my checkup from the neckup last night with the doctor.
He TOTALLY thinks I manipulate everyone I meet and that I make shit up to position myself for more xanax.
I was both amused and very pissed off by that revelation. It was unsaid but clearly relayed if you know what I mean.

 
For example, the first thing out of his mouth was “Why don’t you tell me how you convinced John to agree to counseling only once every 3 weeks?”
I just looked at him and said “How I convinced him? I went to the appointment, he said see you in 3 weeks and I said  Ok. BYE. What did I do?”
He just looked at me and said he would have to offer John his opinion on the frequency of sessions.
I told him to have at it. He is the medical director of the place. I was curious as to what he saw as an acceptable frequency and he told me it has changed over  he years but when he was in therapy it was 4x a week for 5 years and more recently, twice a week.

 
Some friends have found the fact that my psychiatrist saw or sees a psych himself as ironic but nahhh. I knew it was probably pretty standard if not the norm. As I said to my doctor, “Well, yes but you are a psychiatrist and you know, you absorb alot of shit and I can only imagine the ugliness you hear.” He agreed with me and went on to start to explain what is essentially a transference of sorts where doctors begin to blur the line that keeps them over here to remain impartial and they begin to feel what is more than empathy. It’s almost as if the events they hear about begin to have happened to them in a way fng them up too. I knew all about this so I stopped him early in his explanation when he then said “What’s your education level again?”

I told him I didn’t want to discuss any of that. He pushed. I said “Why? WHO CARES?”

 He said “It’s a very simple question. Why make a big deal? Jesus. Tell me.” I said “I have plenty of education.” He asked what that meant, “Kindergarden?” (He’s annoyingly gifted at reading people but he does have a touch of wiseass that makes him tolerable in my eyes) I said, “I have a masters.” He then asked in what and again, I didn’t care to discuss it because “Really, who cares???? I’m not using it. It’s in a box that’s what it’s in.” He kept it up for a few minutes until his clock on the wall chimed and I said “Come on. I gotta go. I don’t care about my education. I can’t sleep. Can you give me something to sleep for when these run out?”

He said he would give me some oudated anti-depressant called Dopexin and that i’d love it. It has a heavy sedating effect. As he was writing out the script he was talking aloud to himself saying “Oh. Thank you Doctor ______ for being kind and giving me something so I can sleep. I so appreciate it.”  I saw his sarcasm as a reaction to my aggravation with him for not just increasing the god damn Xanax and so, I just stared at him. I then said “I find this stupid. I am being told to double up on Lexapro and now you’re adding a third drug to the wheel when allllllllllllll you have to do is give me a few more Xanax a day and we could all be friends.”

 He said “It is a dead end drug.” We bickered some more about that and I told him how jittery and jjumpy I am and I asked if he had read John’s notes to which he replied. “He writes stuff down but I don’t really bother with notes.” I told him maybe if he could be bothered, he should try reading them and then perhaps he would have a better idea of what was going on here and why I need the Xanax. I said “If you bothered to read them, you’d see he diagnosed me with PTSD.”

He looked at me and made an odd sort of Ahhh haaaa noise and said he didn’t agree with that.
Pre-traumatic stress disorder MAYBE. (He made that up btw)
Mind you, I have never told anyone what I told John in that session so I proceeded to sarcastically ask the doctor, “How are you so sure of everything?”
He just said he is cause he has ways of knowing things.

Whatever.  I mean I know the guy is a jedi mind reader and experienced and everything else and I have been a victim of his “just knowing things,” but he is off the mark on this one, believe me. I laughed at the whole PTSD deal until I researched it more and for him to just dismiss it as my manipulating the therapist in a move to better position my argument for more Xanax is utter crap and rather unprofessional in my opinion.

Furthermore, it was his fucking idea that I go into therapy and if he is just going to make this same assumption over and over, what is the point of even going? Torture?

At this point, I see little reason to continue therapy or much of anything else.

Screw him and his therapy.