Trying to work through triggers
Yesterday we were meant to have our third appointment with the new therapist. It was written on the appointment card that she gave us and everything… We dutifully turn up our usual 3-5 minutes early (after giving ourselves about 10 minutes in the car to orientate everyone to being there). We then waited… and waited… and waited… After 45 minutes of waiting we gave-up and left.
While waiting, I’m very aware that someone wanted to curl-up on the chair and cry – I’m pretty sure it was a young part who has a close connection to Cloudie and her garden. So it was not a fun wait, it also was an indication that we really needed to talk to someone that we didn’t need to maintain our facade of sanity with…
When we got home, we e-mailed the therapist to ask her what had happened… Her response was a very reasonable…
I beg your pardon. I had you in my diary for … [time] … on the … [date a week earlier] … , which of course you would not have attended if I put the incorrect date on your card. So sorry! Would you like to make another time?
Best regards
There’s a couple of problems with this response – the first being that she had actually written down the correct time and date on the card, it was her diary that she’d got it wrong. But, mistakes happen… A therapist is still human who will make mistakes…
The second problem is the one we’re really struggling with. It’s totally our own fault and has knocked us for a six. It’s to do with her first sentence – I beg your pardon. This seemingly innocent statement caused so much turmoil and triggering. Intellectually we know it’s meaning – sorry, excuse me, what did you say? etc. These seem innocuous enough. But for a couple of the youngs one those words mean something totally different…
All we hear is those words being yelled at us with such anger and hatred, the words are then followed by whack! The mother is the one yelling at us. I’m not sure if the whack is a physical blow, or a reaction to the anger and hatred with which the phrase is yelled at us. There is cowering, fear, terror and a promise to never speak like that again… I promise… I promise… no more… honest… sorry… I’ll be good… *we need to be quiet*
It’s so hard to seperate what the therapist has emailed us, and what the trigger response has brought up. We’re fighting hard to not be dragged into the flashback and the chaos that will bring. We’re fighting hard not to associated the therapist with that memory…
