Have Fun With Your Therapist (A.K.A.: The Shrink Stigma)

Mental-illness sufferers often avoid therapists because the stigma around these “shrinks” is as thick as that of the disease. The author is here to explain why you shouldn’t fear them.

Mood music for this post: “Just Another Psycho” by Motley Crue:

It’s a funny thing when I talk to people suffering from depression, addiction and other troubles of the mind. Folks seem more comfortable about the idea of pills than in seeing a therapist. After all, they’re just crazy “shrinks” in white coats  obsessed with how your childhood nightmares compromised your adult sex life, right?

Since I rely on a therapist and medication as two of MANY tools in my recovery, I’m going to take a crack at removing the shrink stigma for you.

I’ve been to many therapists in my life. I was sent to one at Children’s Hospital in Boston as a kid to talk through the emotions of being sick with Chron’s Disease all the time. That same therapist also tried to help me and my siblings process the bitter aftermath of our parents’ divorce in 1980.

As a teenager, I went to another therapist to discuss my brother’s death and my difficulty in getting along with my stepmother (a wonderful, wonderful woman who I love dearly, by the way. But as a kid I didn’t get along with her).

That guy was a piece of work. He had a thick French accent and wanted to know if I found my stepmother attractive. From the moment he asked that question, I was done with him, and spent the rest of the appointment being belligerent.

That put me off going to a therapist for a long time. I started going to one again in 2004, when I found I could no longer function in society without untangling the barbed wire in my head. But I hesitated for a couple years before pressing on.

The therapist I started going to specialized in dealing with disturbed children and teenagers. That was perfect, because in a lot of ways I was still a troubled kid.

She never told me what to do, never told me how I’m supposed to interpret my disorder against my past. She asked a lot of questions and had me do the work of sorting it out. That, ladies and gentlemen, is what a good therapist does. They ask questions to get your brain churning, dredging up experiences that sat at the back of the mind like mud on the ocean floor. That’s how you begin to deal with how you got to the point of dysfunction.

She moved to Florida a year in and I started going to a fellow who worked from his house. I would explain my binge eating habits to him, specifically how I would down $30 worth of McDonald’s between work and home.

“You should stock your car with healthy foods like fruit, so if you’re hungry you can eat those things instead,” he told me.

That was the end of that. He didn’t get it. When an addict craves the junk, the healthy food around you doesn’t stand a chance. The compulsion is specifically toward eating the junk. He should have understood. He didn’t. Game over.

The therapist I see now is a God-send. He was the first therapist to help me understand the science behind mental illness and the way an inbalance in brain chemistry can mess with your thought traffic. He also provided me with quite an education on how anti-depressants work. Yes, friends, there’s a science to it. Certain drugs are designed to shore up the brain chemicals that, when depleted, lead to bi-polar behavior. Other meds are specifically geared toward anxiety control. In my case, I needed the drug that best addressed obsessive-compulsive behavior. For me, that meant Prozac.

That’s not to say I blindly obey his every suggestion. He specializes in stress reduction and is big on yoga and eliminating coffee from the daily diet. Those are two deal breakers for me. Yoga bores the dickens out of me. If you’ve been following this blog all along, I need not explain the coffee part.

I also find it fun to push his buttons once in awhile. I’ll show up at his office with a huge cup of Starbucks. “Oh, I see you’ve brought drugs with you,” he’ll say.

Thing is, he’s probably right about the coffee. But I’ve given up a lot of other things for the sake of mental health. I’m simply not putting the coffee down right now.

I think part of this is about testing him, too. I can’t help but push the buttons sometimes just to see what I can get away with.

But on balance, it’s a productive relationship that has helped me to find a lot of peace and order in my life. I thank him for that.

He kind of reminds me of Dr. Keyworth, the shrink who counseled Josh Lyman and President Bartlet on “The West Wing.” He took their crap with a straight face, not the least bit concerned that these were powerful, intimidating people.

The main point of this post is this:

There are good therapists and not-so-good therapists, just like there are good and not-so-good primary care doctors; just like there are good cops and bad cops.

But if you feel like you need to talk to someone objective and you hold back for fear of being in the same room as a quack, well, then you’ll never know what you could have accomplished.

I chose to talk to a professional despite my deepest reservations. I’m grateful that I did.


37 thoughts on “Have Fun With Your Therapist (A.K.A.: The Shrink Stigma)

  1. Pingback: The OCD Diaries: The Engine | THE OCD DIARIES

  2. Pingback: Response To Reader Who ‘Wants To Die 5 Out Of 7 Days’ | THE OCD DIARIES

  3. Pingback: Back Story Of THE OCD DIARIES « THE OCD DIARIES

  4. Pingback: Depressed But OK With It « THE OCD DIARIES

  5. Pingback: Thinking is Not a Tool « THE OCD DIARIES

  6. Pingback: Binge, Pray, Disgust « THE OCD DIARIES

  7. Pingback: WTF Is That Shrink Doing? « THE OCD DIARIES

  8. Pingback: Thank You « THE OCD DIARIES

  9. Pingback: Black Rain « THE OCD DIARIES

  10. Pingback: Gone Fishing (Sort Of) | THE OCD DIARIES

  11. Pingback: The Happy Lamp | THE OCD DIARIES

  12. Pingback: Happily Ever After is Bullshit & That’s OK | THE OCD DIARIES

  13. Pingback: Dead-end Justice For These OCD Sufferers | THE OCD DIARIES

  14. Pingback: Summer of 1990 | THE OCD DIARIES

  15. Pingback: You Think Too Much | THE OCD DIARIES

  16. Pingback: The Anxiety Attack | THE OCD DIARIES

  17. Pingback: An Exaggerated Response | THE OCD DIARIES

  18. Pingback: Riding The Blue Pill | THE OCD DIARIES

  19. Pingback: Friends Who Help You Heal, Part 2 | THE OCD DIARIES

  20. Pingback: When to Let the OCD Run Hot | THE OCD DIARIES

  21. Pingback: Lessons of a Thirty-something | THE OCD DIARIES

  22. Pingback: We’re in This Together Now: Gratitude List, Part 2 | THE OCD DIARIES

  23. Pingback: The 12-Step Survival Guide of Life « THE OCD DIARIES

  24. Pingback: The OCD Diaries, 5-26: Prozac Summer « THE OCD DIARIES

  25. Pingback: Why the Cigars Must Go (and Why it Pisses Me Off) « THE OCD DIARIES

  26. Pingback: Meet My Demon « THE OCD DIARIES

  27. Pingback: Scenes from the Airport « THE OCD DIARIES

  28. Pingback: The Ugly, Somewhat Humorous History of Bill Brenner « THE OCD DIARIES

  29. Pingback: Why Being a People Pleaser is Dumb « THE OCD DIARIES

  30. Pingback: Waiting for the Sun « THE OCD DIARIES

  31. Pingback: Post-Travel Blues (A.K.A. Pretty Vacant) « THE OCD DIARIES

  32. Pingback: OCD Diaries: The Office Mom « THE OCD DIARIES

  33. I agree with rybolov. The relationship between a therapist and the patient is unique. The therapist has to fit the patient’s needs at the time of therapy. Some personality types clash; some therapists’ theories clash with a patient’s needs; and sometimes you outgrow your therapist. If a relationship isn’t working, do indeed shop around.

  34. Hey Bill, one thing to add: therapists have different strengths that balance with your needs. Your needs change and evolve– for a time you might need a mom to guide you along, at other times you need a dad who can kick your butt when you need it.

    Best advice here is to shop around a bit if you’re not getting what you need.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s