I figure I'll post now while I have some downtime before my next appointment (optometrist). I feel very scattered and feel that I may not remember much of my session very shortly. It's already breaking up in bits and pieces. I wasn't paying the best attention.

T said he didn't hear me come in while he was in the bathroom, so he apologized for running a couple of minutes behind. He asked me how I was and I answered with a "meh." I was annoyed. With him. With everything. I brought up again that I was annoyed with him because I felt that he was irritated and dismissive. He said that I was probably picking up on some frustration on his part. He said that we don't have a lot of time left together, and he's not sure whether or not I'll be in a better place by the time we terminate. So he said he's feeling like he wants to get down to work, but that working with people is hard because we're so difficult. He had this analogy where a landscaper can visualize what the grass is going to look like when it's cut, but he doesn't know what the final result ever looks like with his clients.

So he asked if I was still feeling hopeless and that therapy was a waste. I said it was, probably even more so now than I was last week. He asked why, and I said it was because I was never going to get any better. He brought out the Evil Chair for a bit, and he was trying to get me to dialogue with the self-critical part of myself. I tried, but I just couldn't tap into it. What I was able to get out was that I was a failure, and that I couldn't even do the basic things right. Then I started to cry.

It took me a couple of minutes to collect myself, and then I asked him if he remembered why I told him I finally decided to go back into therapy in the first place. He didn't remember off-hand, so I reminded him. "That's right, I do remember you saying that."

I told him about my trip to the ER last weekend, and how terrible all of the hormone treatments made me feel. If my doctor says that I can't take this medicine anymore, then my next step will be the super invasive fertility treatments, and if I'm feeling this badly on the less invasive ones, then there's no way my body is going to be able to take the other stuff. I'm not going to have kids.

We talked about that a bit, how it made me feel about myself (via Evil Chair), and then he asked me to verbalize what it was that I hated about myself. I'm fat, ugly, smell, stupid, crazy, etc. He asked me which one of those was the most hurtful. I chose crazy. Because I can lose weight, I can have plastic surgery, but I'm always going to be crazy.

His argument against that was that I had a horrible childhood, and so there are things that I do as a result of that. It's difficult for me to regulate emotions because that wasn't modeled for me, etc. He asked whose fault it was that I feel this way. I said my own. He was like, "wait, do you really believe that?"

I said yes. Because I can have problems because my dad didn't hug me enough or because my mom abandoned me as a child, but at some point I have to take responsibility for continuing the patterns that I've learned. I know that my personality wasn't created in a vacuum, but now that I know what the problem is, it's mine to fix.

He said that he believed me when I said that it was my fault, but that he thinks that I'm wrong.

I continued and said that therapy at this point was a fruitless exercise because regardless of this new insight to myself, that I'm continuing down this spiral of depression. That I'm impulsive and that I didn't know where my breaking point was anymore. That I felt close. He said that made him feel like he was doing something wrong with me, but that I shouldn't take responsibility for that.

I told him my hypothesis of me having BPD. That I know what the prognosis is, and for all things considered, this is probably the best I'm going to get. He asked me what I know about BPD, and I mentioned impulsivity, difficulty regulating emotions, issues with attachment (idealization/hatred). He said that personality issues are on a spectrum, and that there are times where he hates his wife, but that doesn't make him borderline.

"I mean, when you think about it, what is crazy? Where does Trump fall along that line?" I'll admit, that did make me laugh. But I said that if we're talking about the spectrum of mental illness, that I fall somewhere on the clinical end.

I told him that I feel fraudulent because I present well to the world, but that I am damaged, broken, crazy. I told him I thought I even had him fooled. I have told him everything, and he doesn't see me for what I really am. He short circuited at that moment (haha roboT), saying that he believed me when I said that I wasn't doing well, but that he continued to refer to my resiliency in hopes that it was comforting. I said it wasn't, and that I felt hopeless. But I still continued to go because everything I said was safe. That he couldn't report unless I was a danger to others. Then he added "or to yourself."

Time was about up. He asked me if we were still on for next week. I told him I don't know; the only reason I went today was because I forgot to cancel in time. He said to think about it and get back to him. I laughed and said that I couldn't believe he was letting me leave. He asked if I was going to hurt myself. I said I hope not, but that the day was young. Then he said I'll see you next week.