wheelsonthebus
vroom vroom
- Apr 1, 2022
- 4
NSFW for ever so slightly crude humor. Or attempts at humor. I did my best
Buckle up it's a doozy but hopefully it entertains you
Dearest reader, I saw a psychiatry resident for the better part of the year, until a few months ago. Some context: we share a niche cultural and religious community, but I have refused to approach him the handful of times we were at the same event. (This dude showed up at the speakeasy in full scrubs, I don't know what to tell you.) I, in an undignified experience as crushes tend to be, was dealing with some less-than-manageable transference towards him, textbook limerence. This was unfortunate, but I wasn't about to tell him about it. I just had to deal, in the mortifying way one must. I don't know if he knew, but in retrospect he should have-- it would have been super obvious to anyone who knew anything about the.... disease. Funnily enough, before it struck, I had mentioned that limerence was something I'd experienced (little did I know, to a much lesser degree than I was about to) before and he didn't seem to know what it was.
I realize I sound like I'm a spurned woman (or lady whistledown) and I'm blaming him for that. Not at all. Believe it or not, that's not even what I'm here to yap about. We aren't even halfway through, friend. Unfortunately the limerence is just why I lacked clarity of mind to realize what a piece of shit he is. I wish I could tell his supervising attending about it (that's his 'boss,' for you healthy/non-medical folks), but the issue with being a psychiatry patient is that anything you say is seen through the filter of.... being a psychiatry patient. I'm viewed as potentially delusional and an unreliable account, even more so than your average, non-psych patient already is. That I can never explain what he did and be believed -even though I want to communicate it out of concern for his other and future patients, especially while he is still a resident and under supervision who might be able to guide him out of these behaviors- is a large contributing factor to my suicidality. That just seems like common decency. The revenge part is later, trust.
If I have some sort of negative feeling towards him, that I know is a result of his specific and deliberate actions, that I cannot despite all efforts defend or give benefit of the doubt to, then it is simple "negative transference," and dismissable. If I reveal how deeply I have come to hate this man, then it is "splitting," even though, even with the limerence, I never placed this man on a pedestal to fall from. I do not meet the criteria for BPD or cluster B (though I have respect for those who do and what they go through). And yet, it's still 'splitting,' to a man with the authority to dismiss it as such. You have to wonder if he describes all his exes as "crazy bitches." I will note that I do not think of people or the world in any sort of black and white or binary, but through our sessions he has expressed that he is sure that I do. Based on... (drumroll, if you please... ) the fact that I highly dislike someone that attempted to kill me. Lord forbid a girl ever have strong negative feelings about anyone. That is clearly mental illness, or a personality disorder. No other explanation like.. she tried to kill me. Nahh. I went to this man about OCD because I have contamination issues and kept throwing out unexpired yogurt, for background. I walked away with my PTSD out of remission.
At least I am now too busy having flashbacks to be concerned about yogurt texture. I'm cured! Thanks, doc.
If you deal with a chronic illness of the bendy or dysautonomia variety, you may be familiar with how dismissive doctors tend to be about it. I did not ask for the dX for dysauto or PTSD. I have had endometriosis surgically removed 3 times and the post-covid clinic confirmed post-viral complications. I am not self-diagnosed (but respect those who have to be), I don't bring in a "squishmellow" or have "blue hair" or any other stereotypes these pricks associate with any young woman who is dealing with difficult to manage or explain symptoms-- and frankly, what if I did? So what? But I have the diagnoses, like many others, and that is enough to be dismissed and have assumptions made about you and have anything you share or every expression you make and breath you take analyzed through a filter you never asked for. This doctor made it very clear how stupid he thought I am. Because he thought I was stupid, he also thought his other behaviors would hit their mark and not be clocked for what they were. Assumed I wanted a 'witness to my fake suffering,' or was seeking attention for the sake of it. Would humor me intermittently for his own amusement, then switch back abruptly to acting like a brick wall with the capacity for judgement. Had a habit of sneering and smirking which I'll admit was pretty triggering, if that's the right word. Well, a trigger may be involved shortly at least. I was used to this level of dismissal from medical providers in the military -I still can't move my arm right after training for months on a broken elbow* years ago- but to deal with it on the civvie side makes me want to vomit.
*<-my sergeants iykyk
Ok back to sadposting:
I feel so silenced. So fucked with. He would say shit like "you'll tell me everything, eventually." "I'm the only one who knows this much about you, huh?" "Do you trust me yet" -- dude, I regret all 5 milliseconds I trusted you. Guy was speedrunning groomer-core (am I using the slang right) except not really because I'm pretty sure he found me kind of gross. I ain't cute, man. Anyhoo. One time, we were talking about something very unrelated to the next bit: he paused for a sec, scooted up on his rolly chair the way doctors do, scoot-scoot, and in one sentence indicated that not only had he not been listening to a thing I'd said that session but perhaps never at all: "yOu kNoW, YoU're nOt ThAt sPeCial." Girl! The last thing I want is for a medical provider to think I'm "special." Got to be somewhere high on the list of worst-things-for-a-doctor-to-think-you-are. I'd like to be simple and straightforward, thanks, and if he'd ever heard a word I said, he'd know that I deal with the opposite issue of not feeling like I'm real or that I'm allowed to have individuality. Honestly, if I did show up with blue hair, it would be indicative of progress. And I can see it as a valid thing to say to a patient that needs to be knocked down a peg or five or 27 off their high horse but it just seemed awfully like the man had spent actual time in his personal life lying in bed thinking of mean things to tell his patients. Like he'd been zoning out the whole rest of the session just waiting to drop that line. As if he were not a 30-something year old grown man, he said it in a rehearsed manner and looked real satisfied after, too, while I waited for my brain to finish buffering to respond.
While he appears to sleep just fine after his nightly affirmations, I can't sleep for shit. Sometimes it's other events that I can't get out of my mind- a roommate I hadn't known for 24 hours tried to kill me and flipped the rest of the household against me overnight with accusations I still don't know the details of. Traumatic moveout followed by stalking. I just lay there most nights thinking through rapid intrusive memories, alternated with screaming into my pillow. You know, all the regular dramatic stuff and then I watch what I'm doing from the perspective of an outsider, judge myself as attention-seeking even though there's noone else there, except I guess God, idk, maybe some cockroaches that my landlord refuses to address, and then disengage into a dissociative state until I fall asleep. You know the drill, kids.
Smol problem: when it isn't that event or maybe one or two special-guest events taking its place, it's usually him. All the fucked up shit he said and did. Hindsight 20/20, and all of that. Every night it gets worse. This isn't my thirteenth reason or anything, it's more like my 45th, but instead of the straw that broke the suicidal camel's back, it's like a whole other camel riding on top of me.
Here's the fun part kiddos:
I know where he lives. Spooky! Completely on accident, I should mention! Like I said, we share a small ethnic background, and I'll just leave it at my Hinge preferences being limited to that background. Further in my defense, your honor, I will mention I deal with some sort of faceblindness, and didn't realize I was intruding on his privacy until it was too late - I was just trying to figure out why oh why I felt like I recognized this dude and investigated his profile info until I scrolled down and realized-- oh shit that's my therapist-psychiatrist-jackass. This was before the limerence, thank god. That left a gross taste in my mouth and I "X"ed him immediately, but unfortunately I still very much remember. For the court's consideration: he's real bad at taking selfies and a complete dork and unfortunately this may have helped fuel said issue....... hm. Can't blame a girl for having a very specific type. Drowned opossum of a man, real sexy, right? But again, that somehow isn't the issue here. That is entirely my own problem - and thankfully I've recovered or I'd still think he was just "kind-of-problematic-and-not-someone-I'm-delusional-enough-to-actually-pursue-ethics-be-damned-but-yeah-he's-not-like-a-great-person-but-I'm-sure-he's-well-intentioned." Sure, Jan.
Ugh. I really don't hate anyone as much as I am coming to hate him. But, again, I hate him so much that any emotion I feel about this can be easily waved away by him or his supervisor as "splitting/BPD behavior." Personally, I don't know anyone who only has BPD about one singular person, but discoveries are made every day /s.
Why do I mention knowing his locale like some sort of stalker? I wish I was joking when I say there's real temptation to ctb in front of him. I have no way of contacting his supervisor even if she was likely to take me seriously. I mean, if I did some peaceful method elsewhere I doubt he'd find out. I guess if the same hospital system he works for declared me dead he might know, since my record would indicate deceased, but he has no reason to look me up. I cancelled our appointment a few months ago and indicated to the poor receptionist there was no reason and never rescheduled. Ghosted. Boo. Happy halloween. In all reality, if I do it elsewhere I'll only fuck up the shift of whatever newbie is on the responding EMT team and still has light in their eyes to lose. Thankfully our town only employs really mean grizzled paramedics.
I only have a .380 and ought to buy a 9 mil and some hollow points if I really want to liquefy my brain, since short autistic girls probably don't have a great track record of successfully obtaining fentanyl, but all my plans involve not being found until the blood has dried. I don't want to traumatize anyone, right? Wrong! I've realized that I'd honestly really like to traumatize him in particular. I deserve it!
Of course, if he really is the sadist I'm beginning to suspect he is, he'd probably get off on it, but since I spent the better part of a year being quite willing to get him off, I guess I can still consider it a success.
Yay!1!
Anyone else wanna die to spite the mental health professional in their life? I mean also for the sake of not being here but cats can have a little traumatize-them-back. As a treat.
Buckle up it's a doozy but hopefully it entertains you
Dearest reader, I saw a psychiatry resident for the better part of the year, until a few months ago. Some context: we share a niche cultural and religious community, but I have refused to approach him the handful of times we were at the same event. (This dude showed up at the speakeasy in full scrubs, I don't know what to tell you.) I, in an undignified experience as crushes tend to be, was dealing with some less-than-manageable transference towards him, textbook limerence. This was unfortunate, but I wasn't about to tell him about it. I just had to deal, in the mortifying way one must. I don't know if he knew, but in retrospect he should have-- it would have been super obvious to anyone who knew anything about the.... disease. Funnily enough, before it struck, I had mentioned that limerence was something I'd experienced (little did I know, to a much lesser degree than I was about to) before and he didn't seem to know what it was.
I realize I sound like I'm a spurned woman (or lady whistledown) and I'm blaming him for that. Not at all. Believe it or not, that's not even what I'm here to yap about. We aren't even halfway through, friend. Unfortunately the limerence is just why I lacked clarity of mind to realize what a piece of shit he is. I wish I could tell his supervising attending about it (that's his 'boss,' for you healthy/non-medical folks), but the issue with being a psychiatry patient is that anything you say is seen through the filter of.... being a psychiatry patient. I'm viewed as potentially delusional and an unreliable account, even more so than your average, non-psych patient already is. That I can never explain what he did and be believed -even though I want to communicate it out of concern for his other and future patients, especially while he is still a resident and under supervision who might be able to guide him out of these behaviors- is a large contributing factor to my suicidality. That just seems like common decency. The revenge part is later, trust.
If I have some sort of negative feeling towards him, that I know is a result of his specific and deliberate actions, that I cannot despite all efforts defend or give benefit of the doubt to, then it is simple "negative transference," and dismissable. If I reveal how deeply I have come to hate this man, then it is "splitting," even though, even with the limerence, I never placed this man on a pedestal to fall from. I do not meet the criteria for BPD or cluster B (though I have respect for those who do and what they go through). And yet, it's still 'splitting,' to a man with the authority to dismiss it as such. You have to wonder if he describes all his exes as "crazy bitches." I will note that I do not think of people or the world in any sort of black and white or binary, but through our sessions he has expressed that he is sure that I do. Based on... (drumroll, if you please... ) the fact that I highly dislike someone that attempted to kill me. Lord forbid a girl ever have strong negative feelings about anyone. That is clearly mental illness, or a personality disorder. No other explanation like.. she tried to kill me. Nahh. I went to this man about OCD because I have contamination issues and kept throwing out unexpired yogurt, for background. I walked away with my PTSD out of remission.
At least I am now too busy having flashbacks to be concerned about yogurt texture. I'm cured! Thanks, doc.
If you deal with a chronic illness of the bendy or dysautonomia variety, you may be familiar with how dismissive doctors tend to be about it. I did not ask for the dX for dysauto or PTSD. I have had endometriosis surgically removed 3 times and the post-covid clinic confirmed post-viral complications. I am not self-diagnosed (but respect those who have to be), I don't bring in a "squishmellow" or have "blue hair" or any other stereotypes these pricks associate with any young woman who is dealing with difficult to manage or explain symptoms-- and frankly, what if I did? So what? But I have the diagnoses, like many others, and that is enough to be dismissed and have assumptions made about you and have anything you share or every expression you make and breath you take analyzed through a filter you never asked for. This doctor made it very clear how stupid he thought I am. Because he thought I was stupid, he also thought his other behaviors would hit their mark and not be clocked for what they were. Assumed I wanted a 'witness to my fake suffering,' or was seeking attention for the sake of it. Would humor me intermittently for his own amusement, then switch back abruptly to acting like a brick wall with the capacity for judgement. Had a habit of sneering and smirking which I'll admit was pretty triggering, if that's the right word. Well, a trigger may be involved shortly at least. I was used to this level of dismissal from medical providers in the military -I still can't move my arm right after training for months on a broken elbow* years ago- but to deal with it on the civvie side makes me want to vomit.
*<-my sergeants iykykOk back to sadposting:
I feel so silenced. So fucked with. He would say shit like "you'll tell me everything, eventually." "I'm the only one who knows this much about you, huh?" "Do you trust me yet" -- dude, I regret all 5 milliseconds I trusted you. Guy was speedrunning groomer-core (am I using the slang right) except not really because I'm pretty sure he found me kind of gross. I ain't cute, man. Anyhoo. One time, we were talking about something very unrelated to the next bit: he paused for a sec, scooted up on his rolly chair the way doctors do, scoot-scoot, and in one sentence indicated that not only had he not been listening to a thing I'd said that session but perhaps never at all: "yOu kNoW, YoU're nOt ThAt sPeCial." Girl! The last thing I want is for a medical provider to think I'm "special." Got to be somewhere high on the list of worst-things-for-a-doctor-to-think-you-are. I'd like to be simple and straightforward, thanks, and if he'd ever heard a word I said, he'd know that I deal with the opposite issue of not feeling like I'm real or that I'm allowed to have individuality. Honestly, if I did show up with blue hair, it would be indicative of progress. And I can see it as a valid thing to say to a patient that needs to be knocked down a peg or five or 27 off their high horse but it just seemed awfully like the man had spent actual time in his personal life lying in bed thinking of mean things to tell his patients. Like he'd been zoning out the whole rest of the session just waiting to drop that line. As if he were not a 30-something year old grown man, he said it in a rehearsed manner and looked real satisfied after, too, while I waited for my brain to finish buffering to respond.
While he appears to sleep just fine after his nightly affirmations, I can't sleep for shit. Sometimes it's other events that I can't get out of my mind- a roommate I hadn't known for 24 hours tried to kill me and flipped the rest of the household against me overnight with accusations I still don't know the details of. Traumatic moveout followed by stalking. I just lay there most nights thinking through rapid intrusive memories, alternated with screaming into my pillow. You know, all the regular dramatic stuff and then I watch what I'm doing from the perspective of an outsider, judge myself as attention-seeking even though there's noone else there, except I guess God, idk, maybe some cockroaches that my landlord refuses to address, and then disengage into a dissociative state until I fall asleep. You know the drill, kids.
Smol problem: when it isn't that event or maybe one or two special-guest events taking its place, it's usually him. All the fucked up shit he said and did. Hindsight 20/20, and all of that. Every night it gets worse. This isn't my thirteenth reason or anything, it's more like my 45th, but instead of the straw that broke the suicidal camel's back, it's like a whole other camel riding on top of me.
Here's the fun part kiddos:
I know where he lives. Spooky! Completely on accident, I should mention! Like I said, we share a small ethnic background, and I'll just leave it at my Hinge preferences being limited to that background. Further in my defense, your honor, I will mention I deal with some sort of faceblindness, and didn't realize I was intruding on his privacy until it was too late - I was just trying to figure out why oh why I felt like I recognized this dude and investigated his profile info until I scrolled down and realized-- oh shit that's my therapist-psychiatrist-jackass. This was before the limerence, thank god. That left a gross taste in my mouth and I "X"ed him immediately, but unfortunately I still very much remember. For the court's consideration: he's real bad at taking selfies and a complete dork and unfortunately this may have helped fuel said issue....... hm. Can't blame a girl for having a very specific type. Drowned opossum of a man, real sexy, right? But again, that somehow isn't the issue here. That is entirely my own problem - and thankfully I've recovered or I'd still think he was just "kind-of-problematic-and-not-someone-I'm-delusional-enough-to-actually-pursue-ethics-be-damned-but-yeah-he's-not-like-a-great-person-but-I'm-sure-he's-well-intentioned." Sure, Jan.
Ugh. I really don't hate anyone as much as I am coming to hate him. But, again, I hate him so much that any emotion I feel about this can be easily waved away by him or his supervisor as "splitting/BPD behavior." Personally, I don't know anyone who only has BPD about one singular person, but discoveries are made every day /s.
Why do I mention knowing his locale like some sort of stalker? I wish I was joking when I say there's real temptation to ctb in front of him. I have no way of contacting his supervisor even if she was likely to take me seriously. I mean, if I did some peaceful method elsewhere I doubt he'd find out. I guess if the same hospital system he works for declared me dead he might know, since my record would indicate deceased, but he has no reason to look me up. I cancelled our appointment a few months ago and indicated to the poor receptionist there was no reason and never rescheduled. Ghosted. Boo. Happy halloween. In all reality, if I do it elsewhere I'll only fuck up the shift of whatever newbie is on the responding EMT team and still has light in their eyes to lose. Thankfully our town only employs really mean grizzled paramedics.
I only have a .380 and ought to buy a 9 mil and some hollow points if I really want to liquefy my brain, since short autistic girls probably don't have a great track record of successfully obtaining fentanyl, but all my plans involve not being found until the blood has dried. I don't want to traumatize anyone, right? Wrong! I've realized that I'd honestly really like to traumatize him in particular. I deserve it!
Of course, if he really is the sadist I'm beginning to suspect he is, he'd probably get off on it, but since I spent the better part of a year being quite willing to get him off, I guess I can still consider it a success.Yay!1!
Anyone else wanna die to spite the mental health professional in their life? I mean also for the sake of not being here but cats can have a little traumatize-them-back. As a treat.
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