Am I the only one who's had a psychiatrist/therapist:
1. Quit on them
2. Openly Cry hearing about your tragic backstory (tm)
3. Literally ghost you
I'm starting to get the feeling that mental health professionals really /can't/ help. Any advice anons?
Also, ITT share your mental health stories, good or bad.
I've only had one therapist and she was nice with big tits
it's only you man. probably have some secret society on your ass
I might mention that she hugged me after most sessions
it was nice but I can't go back to therapy ever ag'ween sadly
Why can't you go to therapy anymore user?
cause I got glowinthedark goons on my ass and I can't go back there~!
same reason as you prolly
So theses are not really MY mental health stories, but my mother has worked in psychiatry as a nurse for most of her life.
>mom is pregnant with me
>my biological father bailed on us
>my mom is a real trooper and keeps working as a psychiatric nurse until her due date
>a week before she was due she gets violent contractions
>our landlady found my mom weirdly contorted, screaming while stretched over her bedframe
>takes her to the hospital
>mom manages to call work
>"yeah sorry I can't come in I'm giving birth lol"
>mom's coworker takes her shift
>coworker is doing her regular rounds around the ward after bedtime
>keeps hearing this weird scraping
>just assumes it's a patient peeling off dead skin or fidgeting
>fidgeting noise gets super loud
>finally decides to investigate
>discovers that a patient used a home-made shank to cut down into a drugged and catatonic patient's neck up to the vertebrae
>this was the only murder that had occurred and would occur at the facility in and for many, many years
>my mother had been working that shift for the last year and a half
>I was born
>shortly after I was born
>mom has a patient
>nice old woman
>loves my mom because they're both Polish so they can talk to each other
>they're also from the same small town of ~3000 people
>old woman loves hearing about me
>she crochets and knits all manner of baby blankets, sweaters, hats, mittens and socks for me
>makes my mother piles and piles of doilies and tea cozies
>woman is a schizophrenic, but is doing very well and lacks many of the frightening behaviors characteristic of the other patients
>mom finally asks why this woman doesn't leave if she's so functional
>turns out sometime in the 1960s she was watching television, though the people on screen were talking to her, snuck up behind her mother and blew her brains out
>mom asks my grandmother
>"oh yeah I remember when that happened"
They are usually spoiled rich kids that had their mummy and daddy pay for their education and tutors. Use them to only get medicine and go to psychologist or figure yourself out yourself
Why would mental health professionals help. Think rationally about your problems. There is no help.
not much really
brother is a schizophrenic and turned into a religious nut
i started to hear breathing and be delusional as fuck believing in fairies and shit but ended up pussying out of going to psychiatrist because i didnt wanna end up in a ward
been doing good tho. havent had any symptoms for a year or so
Interesting please continue if you have more stories user.
I got a couple more. I apologize in advance if some details of the medical setting are incorrect. My mom tells me this stuff in snippets and I'm just piecing them together with no understanding of the mental health system.
>my mom fucking hates borderlines and other personality disorders
>the only people that might hate borderlines more than my mother post in this website's "red flag" threads
>patient comes in with a stuffed animal, asthmatic inhaler, dyed hair
>mom's borderline alarm goes off
>my mom talks with most of the patients (ex. previous post)
>borderline starts chatting up my mom
>goes on and on about her childhood traumas
>seems stable, though, not crying or anything
>mom politely listens
>one of the other nurses shows up
>"user's mom, there's a problem downstairs"
>"sorry borderline I have to go"
>borderline is calm, albeit sad
>borderline nods
>next day
>borderline grabs my mother's shoulder
>borderline says she felt it was "inappropriate" of my mom to leave when she was in the middle of "a breakthrough"
>"Don't touch me, borderline".
>"You're a terrible person you know that? You go up to these people, knowing that we're lonely and scared, and think yourself a big saint for it, and don't seem to care about the damage you cause when you go away, and furthermor-"
>"I have a job to do. Gossiping with you in a non-clinical setting is not my imperative and if you keep talking to me like this I don't think I will choose to interact with you outside of my professional obligations again."
>mom leaves
>borderline rants a little to the people around, but otherwise backs off
1/2
>Am I the only one who's had a psychiatrist/therapist
Yup. Who in the right mind would go to a therapist?
2/3, actually
As I mentioned before, I have zero clue about the mental health system. This was my mother's job before she went back to school and got another position, when I was between the ages of 0 to 10. So if people who actually lived through the system notice some problems, I'm sorry, I'm really just trying to stitch together stuff my mom said.
>mom continues to have trouble with borderline
>borderline is super bitchy
>constantly snarks under her breath
>whines to all the other professionals about how bad my mom is
>even tries tripping or shoving her
>my mom fucking hates her guts
>still very professional
>however my mom refuses to do nice things for her like she does for other patients
>ex. my mom would remember other patient's birthdays, take an interest in their personal lives, etc.
>by this point, borderline knows my mom is a single mother with no family in Canada
>mom is at work
>pauses to talk to a male schizophrenic patient that she adored
I actually have a story about him, specifically, anyway
>borderline starts whining about how my mom picks "favourites"
>"borderline, schizo is very nice to me, so I am nice to him. If you start being nice to me, I'll be nice to you."
>borderline smiles thinly
>"I'm going to have your license, user's mom."
>"Excuse me."
>"I'm going to tell everyone how abusive and unfair you are, and I'll have your license and you won't have a job."
>mom is frightened but plays it cool
>"Mm, I'm sure they'll trust your opinion over mine."
>"Oh they will! I've been telling my family about you, they'll advocate for me and you'll lose your job. Then you and your kid will really be fucked."
>"Sure, borderline, goodbye."
>through the grapevine, my mom finds out that this person has, in fact, made numerous pleas to have my mother fired
>apparently borderline would pinch her nose to make herself cry then go on about my mother's abuses
BA DUM TISS
I don't think any of that happened because your life story is oh so tragic. It's more likely that your psychiatrist was just garbage.
Oh god, 3/4 then.
>there was a male patient on the staff (not schizo) who was very misogynistic
>threatened to rape and slap my mother on several occasions
>as a result, my mother wasn't too friendly with him, either
>borderline starts citing this guy as another example of my mother's abuse
>gets misogynistic patient to wear a ribbon on his arm
>"we're wearing this to demonstrate our patient solidarity with each other. If the medical establishment will not care for us, then we shall care for each other!"
>mom's friend rolls her eyes at this comment
>"THIS IS THE SORT OF ABUSE I AM TALKING ABOUT."
>months of this harassment
>mom ends up interacting with borderline in a professional setting
>borderline is surprisingly nice the entire time
>actually owns up to her bad behavior
>"I just want to say, user's mom, that I'm very sorry and want to wish you a merry Christmas."
>"Thank you borderline. I appreciate that and I hope we can be friends in the New Year."
>"Mmhmm!"
>borderline walks away
>goes into bathroom
>starts slashing her wrists and legs up
>other nurse notices the blood
>screams for help
>my mom runs in
>my mom is way better with blood than her coworker, sends her away
>there's lots of blood
>mom notices that the cuts are all cursory, none are really deep
>starts looking for the instrument
>it's in borderline's hands
>looks like a piece of metal from a curtain, two inches long and sharpened
>"Give me that."
>"I'm bleeding!"
>"Give me that."
>"I'm going to die!"
>"No you're not. Give me that first."
>"Help me!"
>"I will when you put that down."
>borderline screams, throws the piece of metal in my mom's direction
>mom leans down
>yeah, none of these cuts are deep
>mom helps borderline up, goes to help her dress the cut
>borderline goes limp
>pretends to pass out from blood loss
>pretends to have a seizure
>"collapses" onto my mother and right into a wall
therapists suck but talking to people about your problems is good
I saw a therapist for two years and he was great. He had a great dry sense of humour but was super sympathetic about my boohoo story and I really got the feeling that he liked me and wanted to see me laugh and enjoy life.
4/4, finally.
>borderline goes back to her old antics
>"You bitch, you should have helped me, you're the reason I did this!"
>mom sees a giant bottle of rubbing alcohol
>dumps it all over borderline's legs and arms
>"Stop that! It hurts."
>"I'm sterilizing."
>keeps dumping alcohol on her
>"That hurts! Stop! I'll have your license for this!"
>"Will you? In that case.."
>mom pulls out shank
>"Why not? I have nothing to lose."
>borderline goes quiet for a second
>"Sorry. Please fix this."
>"What happened to you passing out?"
>"I'm okay."
>"And should I tell your doctor this was a suicide attempt?"
>"No."
>"So I didn't try to make you kill yourself?"
>"No."
>mom dumps the rest of the alcohol on her
>borderline screams
>dresses the cuts
>other nurse shows up
>borderline is sobbing
>mom smiles at other nurse
>"Other nurse, I have to leave now. Make sure you or one of the other nurses changes these bandages. Make sure to use lots of alcohol."
>borderline just starts whimpering
>mom pats her head
>"Like I said earlier, I hope everything goes better in the New Year."
>January 1996
>borderline is super polite to my mom
>mom is always nice to her after that
>no problems ever again
Anyway user I got more stories (ex. mom's fave patient, that schizo guy) if you are so inclined. They're way happier than this one.
>that schizo guy
sure go ahead
It's definitely just that you have a shit therapist because those are the absolute worst things you could ever do as a therapist. You'd be fire on the fucken spot. Unless you, OP, are Malala or ghandi reincarnate i doubt that this happened with a descent therapist
Yeah, I'll bite
>been "voluntarily" hospitalized 3 times for suicidal thoughts
>basically either I agree to go, or they have a DMHP come out and involuntarily send me to the psych ward
>the hospitals aren't that bad desu
>the food wasn't great, but it provided a nice place to just get away from everything for a while
>mostly just spent my time reading, watching TV, playing guitar, or going to group therapy sessions
>talked to a psychiatrist only once or twice each time
>outside I've been through 2 psychiatrists and like 6 therapists
>1st psychiatrist cried when I told him I was suicidal, but that's only because I had been seeing him for a while so we had a sort of bond
>diagnosed with HPPD, panic disorder, and major depressive disorder
>also was a burner, now my left arm is all disfigured because of it
>been on lots of anti-depressants, benzos, mood stabilizers, and antipsychotics but off of everything now
>nothing really helped except the benzos, those helped a lot with the anxiety/panic attacks and the DP/DR from HPPD
>therapy never really helped either because I never felt like I had a meaningful connection with my therapists
>cliche, but what did help was just doing mindfulness stuff
>stuff like appreciating the little stuff and not making a big deal out of things, taking stuff as it is, etc.
>also moving to a small town helped, though I kinda miss the city, just nice to get away from shit, ya know?
>still get depressed every now and then, but only for a few days at most and not that bad
>nothing like when I tried to set myself on fire twice or took and an ungodly amount of benzos
Australian by any chance?
>schizo guy
>early twenties
>really talented artist
>draws complex imagery without reference
>mostly draws his delusions
>which are fucked
>lots of depictions of Christ on the cross
>he gets better
>finds medication that works, etc.
>becomes more lucid
>eventually reaches the point where he can live normally on the outside
>for a variety of reasons including emotional blankness and shaky hands, the quality of his art plumets
>can barely draw anything
>he's cool with it
>mom is super sad for him
>"Don't you feel bad, schizo, you were so talented."
>"I'd rather be happy than draw well."
>"Yeah but I think it's sad because [Mom's Christfaggotry about God's gifts], so I wish you would keep trying to draw. The knowledge has to be in there, somewhere."
>he admits he was sort of scared to try drawing seriously because he worried that the parts of his brain that let him brain were "connected" to his illness
>tells her he finds her prayers reassuring
>"I'll try to try to draw again."
>mom doesn't hear from this guy in years
>it's the early 2000s
>mom and I are in the mall with my little brother
>mom takes me to art store so I can buy my first set of oil paints
>"user's mom? user's mom!"
>it's schizo dude
>they sort of fumble awkwardly in front of each other
>eventually my mom pulls him into a hug
>introduces him to my brother and I as a "friend from work"
>while I fumble around looking at paints they have an intense conversation
>I wait around for them to finish talking
>they give each other a big hug
>he runs off
>go up to the counter
>clerk looks at my mom
>"You know schizo?"
>"Yeah, we, uh, worked together."
>"Are you an artist?"
>"Hm? No."
>clerk gestures to a pile of advertisements near the counter
>apparently the guy is a working artist
>his art is fucking incredible
>and all of it is of beautiful, happy things
>mom ended up commissioning him and his painting is in my living room
>actually wanting to get labeled by some shmuck
>needing an outside agency to deal with your own personal problems
fucking hell you guys are weak
I finally overcome my fear of small talk
but when I get home I keep repeating the conversations in my head and muttering I should kill myself
should I get pills from a psychiatrist or just go back to not talking to normies