Ooooh, am I so peeved at this woman!
Then again, why WOULD she know who the hell I was, calling, anyway? I'm just a new patient.
Don't put down your cell for pressing matters if you don't want it called. Of course, ones' definition of pressing might differ from someone else's, but it was 9 minutes after her office closed, and the call was 90 seconds or less, so I figured it wasn't a huge bother. It could have been longer, had she not acted the way she did, but she REALLY did not represent herself very well at all. Then again, since she had no idea who the bloody hell was calling her, that's probably partly why I'm pissed off.
Still, all my defenses are going to be UP UP UP like you wouldn't believe, when next I meet with her, and the pressing need behind the call is going to stay buried. From her, at any rate. My psychologist will know, but hell if she will, and I don't give a damn if that means my treatment isn't correct because she needs to damn well earn my trust, and act like a doctor, a psychiatrist with at least a SPECK of empathy, and not a bitch.
Strong language, but the phone call was . . . . jarring. I sincerely regret ever picking up the phone to call that woman. I give her 4 appointments to see if this relationship is workable.
I don't know if I have it in me to seek another psychiatrist, but for my own health I shouldn't give up on psychiatrists entirely, and I know I'm catastrophizing and over-magnifying and blowing things out of proportion, partly because of how infinitely STUPID I feel after that short phone call. All sorts of distorted thinking & thought patterns . . . . it's just, . . . .
I'm like a dry tinderbrush right now, and anything could light me afire at this point. Even the stress of thinking about going to see her, after that stupidness of a phone call. I'm too impulsive, and that call is one impulse I really, really regret. If she's any kind of a psychiatrist at all, she hopefully won't try to make me feel stupid (er) than I already feel about it. If she does, I'll take that as a sign that she's got no sense of empathy or speck of human connectedness about her at all. Which would make me wonder what the heck kind of psychiatrist she is, anyway.
See, though all of this flailing around wondering, spurred on by my embarrassment over a teeny phone call where little was said, is a whole lot of to-do over what is likely nothing. Making straw men out of nothing. Making up potential issues where none may exist.
So we'll see, but as I say, I'm going to have all my armor on because I'm tired of feeling emotionally beaten up or having the rug pulled out from under me and bloody surprised like the way I was at the first appointment; she's got to EARN my trust after THAT stupid maneuver, as well as after her manner with me on the phone, granted that she didn't know I was a patient for half of the very short phone call, though.
Anyway, UGH. Despite the shortcomings of my first two psychiatrists, at least I knew that they genuinely cared for my well-being. Also, neither of them thought I was stupid or annoying, as far as I knew. Well, my first one was sometimes . . . well, it depended. In the end, though, I knew he was sincere.
See, this seeing a woman psychiatrist thing is fraught with a psychological minefield, in addition to all the other problems that have come up. I have plenty of reasons not to trust women.
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