I suppose I can do it likes houses on a street, when you go past a side street you go forward to 101. And the next therapist, 201, and so on. The worst thing that could happen, happened. Karen said she doesn’t want to work with me anymore.
Of course she did not say it like that. She is referring me elsewhere. Not even in the same group. She wants me GONE. I know it isn’t fair. It isn’t how she said it. She asked me how I was, and I said horrible. I have been horrible. We talked about Babsy. I told her how I took her to work with me regularly, and how I would have my niece read to her, and everything. She asked me what skills I was using. I thought about it, and told her I was writing about it on the net, and talked to some friends. I was talking about her and she yawned. That stopped me cold.
I tried to start up again and explain how much dogs mean to us (pet people), how guys I know tell me that they didn’t cry at their mother’s death but cried for their GSD, and how I do not think they love the dog more than their mother, but it is easier to grieve for a dog, but evenso. And that people tell me they waited 3 years or more, my dad won’t get another dog. She agreed that it is hard.
I went on to say that this wasn’t normal, losing all these dogs. I said that I had 38 regulars in the past 25 years, and in 24 years I lost 8 and rehomed 12. I explained that in rehoming them, I hear about them, and they have really good lives. Usually very young dogs between 10 months and 3 years. But in the last ten months I lost 5 and rehomed 1. I talked a little more about Quinnie and how vicious that was, and then about Babs and heart dogs. I told her about wanting to take all my heart meds when I put Quinnie down, but that I knew Babsy only had a little time left and since she was mine for her whole life, I wanted to be there for her. I told her I didn’t think that with Babsy, but it was just as hard with Babs. She asked me if I was suicidal. I thought about it, and said no. We discussed the thoughts and the dogs. She let it fizzle out.
And then, she said that she discussed it with her colleagues and reflected, and decided that it would be better for her to refer me to someone, skilled with DBT. Someone down the road at another facility she had a page of referrals for me. It went down hill from there. I nearly died on the way home. Some yayhoo cut me off on the highway. She had said we can have one more appointment. The one in two weeks. Just this week, Wednesday, she sent me an e-mail moving everything around, so that she scheduled me out to July every other week. I didn’t respond to her e-mail. And between Wednesday and Saturday, she decided I should go away.
Well shoot, if she is going to kick me out for going through a rough period, then maybe it is for the best. My brain is struggling back and forth between “she is trying to do right by me, and she dislikes me so much, and what did I do wrong — I am such a reject, so difficult to work with”, and on and on and on.
Ah well, my brother, Brian’s wife is here for Mother’s Day. He’s at Bobby’s helping him with something, but it won’t be long before he is here, so I better go to my house and take care of my dogs.
I wrote her an e-mail asking not to cancel me until I have the appt. I’d call on Monday. But maybe it is like some folks when the decide they no longer want their dog, and they’ll take them back to the breeder if it is convenient, or they will dump them at the shelter, or drop them in the woods. I’ve been dumped. It took me 3 hours to stop crying and now I am on the verge again.