So much for that
I had been thinking about it all weekend, and I found myself dreading my next counseling appointment, seeing it as an obligation, rather than a life preserver to reach out for. So I discussed it Monday night with E to see if he thought quitting was a mistake, and he didn’t, nor did he feel I would be a danger to myself and others (more than usual, anyway,) if I didn’t continue with professional help at this time. Tuesday morning I called up my counselor and told her I was canceling my remaining 2 appointments because my gut was telling me that this wasn’t what I needed right now, that I may or may not be back down the road, but for right now I was going to listen to my gut. This excuse had the benefit of being entirely true, and I got lucky and could leave it on her voicemail. Of course, she called back. I knew she would. She left me a message, as I didn’t get to the phone fast enough (not that I was sprinting), asking me to please give her any feedback I felt I could, so she knew if she needed to change something, or if she shouldn’t "personalize" it. So I sent her the following e-mail. Her response follows.
Dear D,
I got your phone message, but I’m better at expressing myself in writing, so I thought I’d go this route. I decided to discontinue with you, not because of you, but because of a combination of factors. I felt quite comfortable and supported with you personally.
First of all, I felt pushed by a worried friend to get counseling, rather than choosing to do so on my own timetable. She was mistaken as to the danger I was in, which I made clear the next day, and she realized she’d overreacted out of concern and lack of knowledge about how I was, and what I was doing, outside of work. I had made the call to R and to you in case she was right, recognizing that my judgment has not been great since A died. I didn’t think she was right, not yet, but by the time we got it sorted out, I’d already made the call, and figured I’d follow through anyway. From my own perspective, I felt (and still feel) like I was doing as well as could be expected, doing my grief work, supported by friends and my own research and reading and journaling. Of course it was my choice to call you, but I probably would not have availed myself of professional help unless I wasn’t feeling better after 6 months, not after just one month. I realized my mistake on the point, of not listening to my gut in the first place, and decided to correct it, which is why you got my call today.
Once we met a couple times, I found that the constraints of the clinical setting chafed and made me feel anxious rather than comforted. I understand the reasons for the detailed history, and I understand that my tendency to wax verbose made that take longer than it probably needed to. We were still looking at doing some history tomorrow, as well. But that is really quite the point for me. I cannot do what I need to do for me in 50 minutes, once a week, at a scheduled time. I am grieving on and off all day, every day, all week, and I need unlimited room to do that. By disposition I’m not one much for limits in general, and this is yet another manifestation of that, but the emotional stakes are higher. It is not unusual, lately, for me to journal for an hour and a half, two hours straight, until I’m empty, every night since I picked up a pen after A died, in addition to blogging about the situation. I can talk to my husband until I’m talked out, without having to watch the clock. And I have been doing all these things for weeks, and they are helping. The appointment seems like an obligation, rather than an aid, a positive to look forward to, and that, to me, is a sign. So I’m questioning whether a clinical setting is helpful for me at this juncture, when I’m left doing the DIY deal the other 6 days a week. My gut says "no." It tends to be right, so I must listen to it.
One thing, a concrete thing…and this may seem odd, and I don’t know if anyone has ever said anything similar to you, but I found the dim light in your office discomfiting and cold. I am very affected, mood-wise, by light, both indoors and out, and I become vigilant about seasonal depression as the season changes to winter and there is less light. I always have been sensitive to light. During sessions, I found myself yearning for a lamp with a warm bulb I could turn on when I was there; the dimness just exacerbated my melancholy. That is not a reason I have decided to discontinue, but while I’m giving feedback, I figured I’d throw it in, for what it’s worth.
What I really needed, (and I wasn’t able to articulate this until this weekend, so I wasn’t able to share it with you early on), was to lay out for you the coping strategies I’ve been using, and ask you if you knew of any tools I might consider that hadn’t occurred to me. I have people to talk to; what I needed was strategy, and fast, because I am hurting now. I needed emergency surgery, not a good diet and exercise plan, if I were to make an analogy. This wound is specific and recent, and I need to focus on ways of handling that, not on past factors that are unrelated to the grief issues arising from fact that my sweetheart died. I’m a Scorpio and an INFJ. I live to figure out my own "stuff," and tend to do so on my own. I wanted a hammer for this particular nail, and I’ve found out of necessity and through my own efforts several tools to approach my grief. I understand that that there is no cure for grief but to grieve. I also understand that counseling is a process, not in the business of selling hammers. But I am processing, constantly. I would do that anyway, and in my own time, and I think right now, that is what serves me best. That is why I said I may or may not be back. I cannot know what route this path through grief will take, but I do know when I am out of my depth, and am not afraid to ask for help. If I hadn’t gotten out of bed for the last 6 weeks, I would say I need help, if not hospitalization. But I am re-entering my life at such points I feel able, can find enjoyment in things, and I can already look back to 6 weeks ago, 3 weeks ago, last week, and see that I’ve made progress. I have faith that I will continue to.
So that’s where I am. I hope that it’s been useful information, and that you do not feel you somehow scared me away. You didn’t. I’m just feeling Frank Sinatra right now. I need to do it my way.
Sincerely,
The girl left behind
Dear Girl,
I really appreciate your feedback; all of it. It is true that when such a significant loss occurs so recently, that often a person is feeling “too raw” to be in the counseling mode. You are not the first client I have had whose well-meaning loved ones steered them my way for the right reasons, but not at a time that seemed right for them. I admire and respect your ways of taking care of yourself and I believe that you are a good judge of choosing what support you may or may not need from me or another counselor in the future.
As for my dimly lit office, you are so right and I’m glad you mentioned it. This particular space is a fairly new one for me and I am slowly getting it to how I want it to be. Although you are the first one to mention the lighting, I think you are not the only one to sense the office as less than warm and nurturing. So, thank you for that.
Take good care, Girl, and let me know how I might help you in the future.
Most Sincerely,
D
So no hard feelings on her part. Cool. No second on thoughts on my part. It was the right decision.