Intake Day

Scary day! I filled out my paperwork, and turned it in. A really pretty lady comes to get me from the lobby, and she turns out to be the doctor. I based on her name I think she may have been from India, and I was super intimidated by everything about her. He was beautiful, thin, and a doctor, I am an older, pudgy, college student that is broken. I felt like a failure all over. Thankfully I shoved that negativity from my mind and focused on what was real. I have a problem and I need help with it. I decided to look at it like I would a math problem. I would not hesitate to get help with math so why would I not get help for my emotions.

Moving on, from what I was told doctors meet the students/clients first to evaluate what they may need so they can match up the clients needs with the counselors in training. So today’s appointment would just like an interview. And frankly I was kind of proud of myself. I went in and told the story, then when she asked me how I felt I had an answer. It wasn’t a good one bit it was an answer this time. I talked so much for a change I think I told her I don’t like to think about my feeling because it can get to hard to stay in control of them and that is true. She suggested I try and work on creating a support system, meaning I have to share my thoughts with others. Well, I have been working on this…kind of. Or at least I have thought about it. I mean, I talk to people about stuff that’s going on with my school. I don’t over share, because people have their own problems, and I don’t want to burden anyone with my problems. I do feel like I share quite a bit in spite of my need not to be bothersome. Maybe I should ask my friends about this to verify my feelings are accurate?

The therapist asked me how I coped in the past. I had to really think about that, and here is what I came up with.

I guess from ages two to five I coped by crying, but that stopped when kids started making fun of for being a cry baby in kindergarten.

Instances of needing to cope:

Age 12

My father was shot by accident; he was actually hoping to shoot my mother, but was to drunk and shot himself in error. My older sister was with my mother who was obviously and understandably shaken. They called the police. I had the responsibility of my father. I held a cold compress over the wound, and told him to be still till the ambulance arrived. I remember being afraid, sad, and tired, because it was about two in the morning. When it was all said and done I have no recollection of coping I just did what was asked of me then I put it out of my head. The thing I remember most was anger, and a fear of guns and loud noises. I guess I coped by avoiding it?

Age 19

When I lost my sister, that was very hard and I felt terribly alone. I didn’t have anyone I felt I could talk to. There was no grief counselor, friends, or family to confide in, because my friends and family were all struggling with their own grief and I didn’t have the money to pay someone to listen to me whine. So I just shoved my hurt way down and tried to pretend like everything was fine. It wasn’t and I knew it wasn’t because from time to time I would just lose my shit and start yelling and for no real reason. Then I would apologize for being a bitch and everything would be fine. I guess I cope by avoiding or suppressing?

Anyway, she told me that she was going to be the one working with me personally. I guess I am to damaged for a student counselor to work with. Not sure how I feel about this.

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