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DBT Session 5 : The end of Distress Tolerance

Or running into the thing that ruined you. My former doctor. This will also answer partially why Not Bad for a Robot is super angry all the time. Not too many details, because my hospital stories are awful.

The cancellation rumour was partially true. Instead of 2-4 months, it's gonna be 1 month off. And they finally assigned me a private therapist which has not entirely screwed over my work schedule. It will however be a problem in the summer. Which I might have to drop out in the summer because I won't make enough money to live.


I had a message left on my phone which I assumed was one of the group leaders, but it wasn't.

Let's see what I can piece together.

I was angry that morning. I didn't want to come, and was actually trying to be late as a sign of spite. Childish of me. I also tried really hard not to do my homework in a weird effort to punish my group. I did do it, because I hate not trying and I know it's good for me. I was still early, because I am a punctual asshole. Deep down I know they are trying to help me. That once again this is just an unfortunate circumstance. Let's just get there and get it done.

And this is where things get blurry.

Got my coffee and muffin from McD's. Try to make myself less angry and more reasonable. I'm almost getting to the point of not wanting the world to burn. I enter my hospital safe zone, and there he is...


The doctor whose procedure left me in constant pain horrible for 8 months and extended my period to 26 days. The tests this doctor performed on made it so any orgasm I had would be painful. The doctor who performed 2 procedures on me, when I agreed to one. I didn't even get the one I expected. Whose staff humiliated me in front of an entire waiting room right after I found out what was wrong with me. The ultimate moment of vulnerability when you find out you need multiple surgeries and your life is going to change forever, mixed confusion because they did the wrong things, and shame because you didn't yell 'stop' loud enough, and they humiliated me because I did exactly as they said. They told me to wait for another doctor and I did, apparently that's when they get three of them to make fun of you. It was a laugh riot for the staff. Dumb old me sitting there, mulling over my surgeries, figuring out how to tell my parents that now they wouldn't get grandkids out of me, the relief and regret of probably not being to have kids, waiting for the next doctor to come out and explain. I was so stupid for doing exactly what they told me too. I ran out of there. It started this whole PTSD nightmare. And the entire chain where my healthcare has constantly gone wrong, because sadly the story actually gets worse. Because when they fuck up, they do everything to hide it and as a result fuck up more. It started with him.


There's a scene in the Lovely Bones, where the main character's ghost is running away from the awfulness of her fate. Sometimes I think that's what happened. That my soul ran away and left my body. I keep trying to find it, but I never really do and I won't because it's shattered. The pieces I find are poisoned. I have to construct a new soul, and sometimes I don't want to, because I really loved the person I was once was. I loved being human. I keep trying to remove the poison but it only ever hurts me.


(<—- bye bye soul)

There he is standing in the entrance way, on his phone looking around. In a winter coat, looking so polished. So human. So unaware. I stare at him, and he didn't recognize me. I knew he had forgotten, because no one cares. It was hilarious for them. Everyone got paid. For him it was a normal Thursday in 2012, and for me it was the end of my life as I knew it. I died in that room. I walked/ran away. Because that's what I do. I get away. I started to hyperventilate and quickly stopped myself because I didn't want anyone in a hospital thinking I was sick. I feel that pain in my chest. I can barely breath and I try not too. I do some breathing exercises, make my way to pysch and hide in the therapy room.


I'm 20 minutes early. My plan of being late failed. My equally overly punctual group mate is there and I calm myself. We joke about how we wanted to be late, but we still end up early. I warn her that I'm probably gonna freak out today because of the pending cancellation and running into him.

The group starts, and they make the announcement. They explain all the reasons why, and they are good reasons. But I loose it.


I cry and I'm angry. It's not just anger, but fear, hurt, betrayal, etc. They tell me they'll still have private sessions, then quickly remember that I don't have anyone. I shout WHEN? They tell me they will book me today. And they keep asking me what would make it better. Did I want to move groups? They go over that it might be a bad idea, and a whole lot of other stuff that I don't remember. I hate people just keep talking when I'm upset. There is literally nothing in the world you can offer me when I am upset that will comfort me. I want you simply to not be there. I honestly want you to hurt. I want to hurt me to hurt you. I am basically the fuck that cat. I tell them I don't know. That I'm angry and that makes me self defeating. They try to explain, I get more angry, "you don't think I don't understand that this isn't financial viable? That there are other people, I know all of those things. This is triggering for me because it is yet again another time that this hospital is fucking me. And all I can think is how can I trust you? That something really bad is going to happen to me, that I'm going to be in pain, that you are going to hurt me again! I know it's in the past, that this is a different thing, but I AM ANGRY."


I don't remember what happens. I pull out my yarn and start making something. Everyone else is okay with the change. It moves on and I crochet.

They ask me if I am okay and I say that I'm not really.

I participate because I can't not. As angry as I am, I always work. I am polite and helpful to my group mates. I feel disconnected. I feel awful. I want to quit. I want to go home. I hate that he was there. That they are fucking me again. But I stay. I keep crocheting.


We go over quickly the distress tolerance skills again. I tell them that I do sadistic radical acceptance, that everyone is a fuck up it. That I accept that no one will save me, so I have to save myself. I beginning to feel like the toxic member. A lot of the session is lost on me.


I go to work and I feel better. Come home and gain a little perspective. It's not the end of the world. Everyone doesn't have to die. I don't need to go stab doctor asshole and that will just make everything worse anyway and everyone will side with him anyway because he's a good doctor and I'm a crazy robot. They aren't trying to kill me. They can't physically touch me. There is a reasonable explanation for the delay and they are trying to accommodate you. Understandably I am upset. But they aren't trying to hurt you, they just have bad timing and bad sense. I'm allowed to complain.

I'm still angry. But I'm not gonna be pissed all night. I'm gonna play an old Final Fantasy game. Eat a good meal. Congratulate myself for seeing the thing I am scared of, hearing the thing I didn't want to hear, and I worked through it. I didn't avoid it. Ya, I gave up for a bit. It was actually really dark in there. But I didn't drink. I didn't self harm. I didn't harm anyone. I didn't tell all of them to go fuck themselves and shove their dumbass therapy up their butts. Oh wait, I did say "everyone is a fuck up," but that was to the world as whole. Ya, not cool, but oh well.


It hurt me. But it didn't destroy me. I'm still here. And I am feeling better.

So that's something.

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