9/23/2016

 The mood is unstable.

 Very, very erratic. I'm having some difficulty managing right now.

 This hasn't been edited. I have no intention of ever reading this again so, sorry in advance if the writing sucks.

 I called off this morning. I needed a heavy dose of sedative to get to sleep last night. It lasted a full four hours then I spent the time between 4am and 6am trying to get the anger under control.

 I was vacillating between shrieking rage and unstoppable tears. This condition is caused when the overwhelming desire to unscrew someone's head from their neck comes into direct conflict with my complete inability to ever do such a thing.

 After a severe episode in January of 2013 I was hospitalized for a week at the VA hospital in Lebanon. After I was discharged I was required to begin therapy with a psychologist. The first session was mandatory.

 Now, I used to be of the opinion that psychotherapy is a crock. I mean, I'm just effing talking to someone. I do that every effing day. So how would this help? I'd seen psychologists before. It always worked out the same way.

 I once saw a skit n Saturday Night Live where Bob Newhart, playing a psychologist, sat listening to a man who was lying on a couch pouring out his problems. Bob sat listening attentively, took notes, encouraged the man to go on...all that stuff that psychologists do. When the man finished talking Bob carefully set down his pad and pen, leaned forward, and yelled “Stop it!” The man paused for a minute then said “What?” Bob yelled again. “Stop it! Don't do that!”

 It not only made me laugh but highlighted my own opinion of therapy. Every VA psychologist I'd ever seen basically did the same thing but without the comedic overacting. They would listen to me then say, in as many words as possible—don't do that.

 I said, I have trouble sleeping so when I can't sleep, I read. They said well, don't read anything interesting. Okayyy. I said lights are sometimes too bright. They said turn the lights off. I said I can't shut off the thoughts running through my head in the middle of the night. They said think about something else.

 In other words...Stop It!

 So I went to my one mandatory appointment and something strange happened. I actually like this guy. I would listen and give feedback. He would listen and offer advice. We would talk about whatever went through my mind at the time and he listened. Actually listened. As opposed to hearing which is what every other therapist ever did.

 So I kept going back.

 Every other Thursday at 8am I'd go and sit in a waiting room full of strangers, who felt they needed to start telling me all their troubles even when it was obvious I'd no desire to speak to them, just so I could spend anywhere from one to two hours talking with him.

 And it helped.

 I'd discovered that my emotional instability would slowly creep up over a period of two weeks then after the session I felt about as normal as I'm ever going to be. It's like a pressure valve. I actually look forward to the sessions. I'd finally found someone who not only knows how to do therapy, but is good at it. And likable.

 This had never happened with a stranger. Not ever. I go every other Thursday at 8am. And get to work at around 10, sometime later if I'm particularly over-wound. I don't sit there wondering what to say and he doesn't sit there staring at me as if --I'm supposed to be conducting the session.

 So, at my last session my therapist told me he won't be my therapist anymore.

 By the end of this year, his caseload will be...something. He said there are no plans to hire another therapist. His caseload will be divided up between the only other therapist at the York Clinic and...well...someone. He didn't know who. Said there were no plans to hire another therapist as far as he knows. 

 The real punch in the gut? He's not actually going anywhere.

 He'll still be at the clinic. Full time. Like always. Just moved into some kind of administrative position. It isn't even a promotion. He won't be supervising people. His pay won't be higher. And the job has nothing to do with his field of psychology. Just a paper-pushing job.

 I reacted to this in the same way I react to most strong emotions.

 Flat. Level. Unemotional. This is a standard pattern. It's not that I don't care, it's that I need more information before I can formulate some way to deal with it. This might sound level-headed but it's not. Not even close. It's just that it takes a while, sometimes days or even weeks, before the emotional content boils over.

 When the train-wreck comes there is nothing else. That's all I can do.

 In this case, the overload occurred about five minutes after I got home from work. It just didn't make sense. There is no valid reason for this. None. After talking with my therapist, I learned that the clinic's director is the kind of person that thinks psychotherapy can cure people in one or to visits. There's really no need to keep seeing the same patient over an over again.

 That person is now categorized as Some Asshole That Thinks Autism Really Isn't All That Bad(SATTARIALTB). That's the shortest acronym I can think of so I'm just going with 'shit head'.

 So, I'm losing the only psychotherapy that's actually worked. For no reason at all.

 When the sedatives wore off I went from an agitated sleep to fully awake in a matter of seconds. I spent two hours trying, and failing, to get myself under control. Paradoxically, a therapy session would have helped—a lot. But all I had was myself to talk to. Like always.

 It didn't work.

 By six-thirty I reached the conclusion that going anywhere where people were would be a very bad idea. Dangerous even. Not for everyone else, for me. There is no way, no matter how angry I am, that I would actually attempt to physically injure someone.

 This doesn't mean I won't attack someone. It means I will use the only weapons I have. A loud voice and a nuclear arsenal of words. I am quite capable of hurting people, I just go about it in a way that leaves the body intact but the emotions shredded.

 Such a thing is rare. Very rare. If you ask anyone who knows me well they will tell you they've never heard me raise my voice. The reason is because when I start shouting, the emotional level is well past my ability to dial things down.

 I was a sergeant. I know how to shout. And it's been my experience that people become frightened when I reach this stage. And, oddly enough, this actually hurts me. Badly.

 Because I am hurting someone.

 I haven't and wouldn't touch them but not all injuries are things that can be seen. I'm not violent. Ever. But I've been told it really, really looks that way when I reach this level of anger.

 The attempt to get things under control is usually characterized by wild mood swings. It's difficult, if not impossible, to interact on a social level. Things are just too far gone for me to manage.

 So I called off, popped another sedative, and stayed in bed for a few hours. There was no sleep. No calm. No quiet. So I got out of bed, made myself some eggs—scrambled, and tried to lose myself in a narrative.

 This helped.

 I eventually got a shower, brushed my teeth, got dressed, and went to work. It was just me and my pod-mom Joan today. It was comforting being around her. She's a very caring person and she cares about me so the company, and the comfort, was appreciated.

 So I'm going to lose the only effective therapy I've ever had. I don't know who I'll be seeing when his caseload is transferred but, right now, this is looking a great deal like a three-year setback.

 I'm fortunate in a number of ways. I have people who love and care for me. People I can turn to if I need it.

 That's what got me out of the house today.

 It's what will get me out of the house tomorrow.

 But, right now, I feel lost.

 Thanks for listening. 

CT,

There are a lot of us here who care about you.

Your journaling not only helps you, but helps us to better understand you; and through that understanding deepen our appreciation for your courageous opening of your thoughts and emotions to the world.

It is a devastating thing to lose someone who has been a trusted confidant and mentor.

It can be like the death of a parent.

Make time to grieve.  Acknowledge the Kubler-Ross stages. But don't ever expect them to progress neatly from one to another because they can have this annoying habit of oscillating back and forth.  Eventually a "new normal" will emerge; and no one can predict just when that will happen.

Thanks for sharing.

Conspiracy Theory wrote:

9/23/2016

 That person is now categorized as Some Asshole That Thinks Autism Really Isn't All That Bad(SATTARIALTB). That's the shortest acronym I can think of so I'm just going with 'shit head'.

 So, I'm losing the only psychotherapy that's actually worked. For no reason at all.

 So I'm going to lose the only effective therapy I've ever had. I don't know who I'll be seeing when his caseload is transferred but, right now, this is looking a great deal like a three-year setback.

 

CT,

Just saw this post.  In my recently new role with DHS, I work with mental health facilities and their oversight.  I was recently at Philhaven Outpatient in Lancaster and learned they have an entire program designed to help people who also have autism.  The program seems very good from what we could see.  You may want to check out the link below:

http://www.philhaven.org/ProgramsandServices/CenterforAutismandDevelopmentalDisabilities.aspx

 

Hey Brady,

Are you at the OLTL now?

Can't say I blame you.

I'm actually specialized in LTC and Waiver MA so I'm familiar with the programs...well, familiar enough to know I'll never qualify for them.