Gwenivere Posted May 18, 2018 Report Share Posted May 18, 2018 I found out this week that because I have feelings of not wanting to be here anymore without Steve and the unrelenting physical pain, state law requires my grief counselor (Jinny) to have a backup therapist (Peter) I must see. She has a masters, he has a PhD. Often I leave Peter not feeling much has been accomplished except filling some time. Neither are covered by my insurance. Jinny says she has to be overseen by someone with more experience, but I have never felt he has any more than she does. We have control over so little I feel this adds stress which I am desperately trying to cut down on. Having to adjust to new and restrictive policies where I volunteer, I never thought it would seep into personal choices for my mental health. I understand Jinny is following protocol, but I feel my trust violated. This came up because. I told her this week I wanted to stop seeing Peter for awhile. She says I don’t have to see him weekly, but he has to be in the picture. The crazy thing is that Peter is much more inaccessible as most therapists are. Calling him in distress he may give me a few minutes but always says 'let’s talk about that at our next session'. Not helpful when you are in duress at that moment. Jinny will spend time on the phone to help me as much as she can and I try not to abuse that. The ironic twist to all of this is I would not be in this predicament had Steve not died. I haven’t figured out how to reframe my outlook on this news because I have no one to talk to in real life. Oh, except my counselors. I’d still be facing this back surgery dilemma, but I wouldn’t be alone or trying to figure out how to survive that without him. Obvious observation, I know. There has been so much talk here lately of the huge adjustment our loss creates and finding more ripples (I prefer white water rapids) it creates. I truly feel if I only had to deal with the physical pain, I could handle the grief better and if it were solely the grief I would be on a healthier path of dealing with it. But both combined is becoming intolerable. I know I veered off the track of (dare I call it) normal grief when the pain cut me off more from things that helped me feel I could do things besides sit and watch them slip away or trudge thru them dreading even the simplest things like cleaning my house easily. Walking into a store. Playing with my dog. Even taking a shower. Pity party day I have lost count of, and add in I never felt pity for myself until now and that really pisses me off. 1 Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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