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Nothing has made me want to hide my mental disorder more than studying counseling in graduate school. I know. That sounds insane. Changes need to be made with the way administration teaches counseling students. Instead of making students feel like they cannot accomplish anything or help others since they have a mental disorder, they need to teach students to accept it and to make adjustments that will help them achieve the same goals in a different way. 

Nobody is the same. Our unique experiences and troubles give us our own set of knowledge and skills. I read a textbook for class that told me that having personal experience with dealing with mental illness is not an acceptable motivator for wanting to be a counselor. I disagree. Having personal experience with mental illness helps you empathize with others who are also struggling. And “experience with dealing with mental illness” is NEVER the sole reason someone is pursuing this career. That greatly simplifies people’s motivations. It is always attached to something else, like a desire to understand one’s own mental illness, and through one’s own personal interest, learning how to help others as well. Even if your personal experience led you to considering this field, I guarantee you that while you continue studying, you will develop new interests, goals, and desires, and will discover a lot about yourself and what you want. 

Ok, sorry for the rant. This is the only place I can go off where my real name is not written all over my post!

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Tarot Reading Review

Today I received a Tarot reading from @missuniverse-111

I was blown away! Everything resonated and addressed issues which I hadn’t asked about but were weighing on my mind. It appeared that the cards were read very intuitively (rather than just through traditional interpretations), which made the reading seem very personal. Honestly, I can’t say enough good things about the reader and I am so happy with the help & encouragement I’ve been given. 🦋

Thank you, @missuniverse-111 !!!!


Originally posted by nawtacop

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#asquoted #linkinbio #childanxiety #parenting #westchestermoms #scarsdalemoms #eastchestermoms #anxiety #childbehavior #therapy #counseling #peacefullivingmhc #lmhc #parentinghelp (at Westchester County, New York)

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I have 10 weeks left in my practicum/internship for my masters in professional counseling program. Graduation is officially on May 01, 2020. I already passed the NCE, so I can submit my application to the state board to get my LAC. And Lover Fest is in July 2020. So many things to look forward to 🥺🥺🥺

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I’ve been gone a couple of days. Sorry about that. Been a little busy. I had my second counseling session last night. It got a little intense. We talked about my sister going back to school and how hard that was for me. She’s like a little light in my life and when she leaves, the world gets a little darker. Besides that, she’s been going through some of the same things I have been emotionally and I’m a worrier by nature. What if she needs me and I’m not there? What if I can’t get to her? I know there’s social media and I can talk to her on a hundred different platforms at any given time, but nothing beats being able to wrap her up in my arms and know that she’s safe.

We talked about how my journey with medications has been. Everything I’ve been on and how it affected me. We talked about the fact that medication can be a band aid and a crutch but it can’t change your thinking. (A conversation that I’ve had with my primary doctor as well.) What I mean by that is that medication can’t be the only thing you do. It can make you feel better. It can help you get to a place where you feel safe to explore. But it can’t adjust your thinking. It’s can’t make your irrational thoughts suddenly rational. There is no magical pill. A little louder for the people in the back, THERE IS NO MAGICAL PILL. Right now, the meds are helping me deal with all of the excess. But I know that I have to keep going with counseling and I have to keep working on the way I allow myself to think about my situation. 

Finally, we talked about my dad. About how our relationship is so very strained. About the way he was when I was little. The way he is now. About the abuse. My dad never physically abused me or my siblings. Even when he disciplined us, he did it with restraint. But his words, the way he could cut down everything you are with a few verbal jabs, that was abuse. It’s taken me a long time to see it for what it is. When I was younger that’s just the way it was. But now that I can critically look at it, I know that it’s not the way it had to be. I mean, I consider my dad to be a good man. He provided for us. He kept us safe. He did everything that he was obligated to do as a father. And when we did well, he was our biggest cheerleader. But when we didn’t, it was a war zone. He hurl words at you until you were a buried beneath the weight of them all and felt two inches tall. Our worth was attached directly reflective of our performance with him. And being the oldest, I genuinely tried to protect my siblings from the worst of his wrath. Sometimes I succeeded. Sometimes I didn’t. But either way I paid with a little piece of myself each time. 

Now, all I can do is work on changing the way I see myself. 

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What a week, and it’s only Wednesday.

Ever since my GP made an appointment for me to see an ENT I’ve been looking forward to that day.  Well, that day was Monday.  Have you ever had a scope with a camera run up your nose?  It’s an interesting feeling, even after the sinus was numbed with Lidocaine. The ENT doctor discovered I have a bone spur in my left nostril, which might help explain snoring, but doesn’t explain why I have been coughing so badly that I throw up.  She then told me to get a blood test (or a CAT scan) to determine what I’m allergic to.  Yes, they still do scratch tests, but the wait time is very, very long.  Since I have blood and it was my day off, I opted for the blood test.  Results should be in Thursday or Friday of this week.  

We’re about as broke as people can get.  I checked our accounts; checking has about $59 and savings $109.  My husband will get paid this Friday.  (Looking forward to that.)  I get paid every two weeks, but since I had to take time off during December for my mothers’ funeral and I had the flu, my check didn’t exist last week.  I don’t expect to see a paycheck from my work until next week.  If we need anything I will have to use spare change or a credit card.  

I am going to see a therapist this afternoon.  Counselor, actually.  My depression…I could look right past huge amounts of junk on my dining room table like it wasn’t there.  Didn’t touch it for months and when I finally did clear it off I felt tired afterward, like I lifted a house with my mind.  And bill paying seems to be a problem for me.  Not for a lack of funds, but rather I’m afraid of it.  Maybe we won’t have enough money.  Maybe I’m tired of feeling like the responsible one; there are two teenagers in this house and it’s like pulling teeth to get them to do anything.  My husband gets mad because I let things go.  I don’t like it when he’s mad at me.  I don’t like feeling like a waste of space and a disappointment. 

Good news:  we overpaid the city utility bill so we won’t receive one from them next month.  Yay.   

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BAD therapy rant: I went to a new therapist today, got a lot I want to work on but I know I‘ve putting in good work already, mental health is best it’s ever been. Show up. Reception desk glass is slid shut. They don’t acknowledge me. There is no way to get their attention besides knocking on the glass, which I wouldn’t do to fish so I eventually just say “hello” progressively louder til they acknowledge me. Find out the licensed therapist I was supposed see and confirmed a few hours before is now not going to see me and I’ll see someone else (I later find out this is a substance abuse and addiction counselor. I do not use substances nor do I have a history of addiction)

I had called ahead previously to get blank copies of intake paperwork. I was denied. I explained I have a medical condition that makes it painful for me to write a lot at once and need time to fill it out over a couple of sessions. Denied again, told this is due to privacy concerns - it can’t leave the office (it’s blank forms??). I arrive early to complete paperwork and after 45 minutes I’m still not done. They finally give up and the “front desk person” leads me to my session. Turns out she’s who I’m seeing. She’s wearing slippers. It’s in a second waiting room with a glass window. She doesn’t bother latching the door. I do. This is not comfortable for me.

Several times I am forced to repeat info I’ve given her moments ago. She then proceeds to tell me that I’m “feeling hopeless” about my future (I’m actually quite hopeful) because I deny her platitudes about a cure or a medicine being right around the corner for my degenerative, incurable, UNTREATABLE illness (ehlers-danlos syndrome). I said no, I just keep up with the latest research and I know there isn’t anything in the works, and I’m ok with that, but I am still angry about the things it has cost me (two businesses) and what I know it will continue to take from me. I tell her I’m working to prepare financially for my uncertain future as there may come a day, sooner than I’d like, when I can no longer work (fact). She tells me I need to live for the moment. I tell her I do live for the moment, I actually have travel plans this weekend, but to not plan for my own financial needs given my health status would be irresponsible. By this point, our session has been TWICE interrupted by a family member of hers popping their head in. Apparently this joint is family owned. Unprofessional. I’m displeased. Therapy sessions are never to be interrupted. And then she commits the cardinal sin of therapy. She says “you could have it worse.”

“You could have it worse.” These are words not uttered by therapists, and are a mindset they actively work against because comparing trauma and struggles is invalidating and minimizing. It’s also a common phrase uttered by narcissists in the middle of emotionally manipulating you.

“You could have it worse. Some people die at a young age.” So I say ok, lets go ahead and compare that. Some people die at a young age. True. And some people, like me, are facing the next 60 years watching their bodies gradually betray them while enduring one of the most painful health conditions known to man. In no way do I want to be dead, but is one really better than the other? She’s tells me I’m morbid. I’m not the one who brought up death.

My session ends and I have another ten minutes of paperwork ahead of me. During this time all staff completely disappears. I end up having to slide open the glass divider to the reception desk and dump the paperwork. I’ve been there over two hours.

I get home and decide to read reviews on this place. Hoping it’s a fluke. It isn’t. Rampant complaints of unprofessionalism, shady billing practices, and the thing I found most horrifying: pushing people into 6-hours-a-day group therapy sessions with other people, many of whom are there by court mandate. SIX HOURS A DAY. Guess what the “counselor” had tried to sell me on not five minutes into the session? Group therapy. I have a job. A wonderful, lucrative job that I enjoy and would very much like to keep. I do not have six hours a day for outpatient counseling, nor does my mental health in any way warrant that sort of intensive therapy.

My primary care physician told me to find a psychiatrist to manage my meds. That’s how this all started. My appointment is back at this office. They’ve already moved it once. I will be canceling it. If the good therapy I have received has taught me anything, it’s to pay attention to red flags, and they were flying them high tonight!

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Karen Horney, as quoted in “The Feminist Legacy of Karen Horney
Our whole civilization is a masculine civilization. The State, the laws, morality, religion, and the sciences are the creation of men…. If we are clear about the extent to which all our being, thinking, and doing conform to these masculine standards, we can see how difficult it is for the individual man and also for the individual woman really to shake off this mode of thought
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