I need to start with an explanation. Even though it’s still Stranger writing, I am writing as if I were Abigail – telling about the experiences from Abigail’s perspective. I have been doing that for most of my posts. I’ve gotten used to referring to myself as if I were Abigail because that’s how I have to live. It would be too confusing to people in general if I were to always refer to myself as Stranger, so I have naturally just carried through in my writing too; but it has just dawned on me that I should clarify here so as not to confuse you all.
As I stated in the previous post, Rapha helped me to understand my need to change therapists when I got back home; and since I was on Psychiatric medications for depression at that time, I also would be needing a new Psychiatrist. The psychiatrist who serviced the clinic where my new counselor worked was Dr. H.
Dr. H was from the big city about 60 miles away, but he came down once a week to service the people in our smaller city. Psychiatrists were few and far between, so this was a generous service on his part. The first time I met with him I was immediately impressed that this man was going to be able to help me like no one I saw before him. By that time I had seen several psychiatrists and umpteen therapists, and by then a pattern had developed in their responses to things that concerned me the most. When I brought up my concerns about suddenly not knowing where I was or what year it was or who I was, they ignored or changed the topic. When I talked about not being able to account for hours of the day sometimes, they suggested a possibility of some form of seizures. I would point out that the EEG showed no seizure activity, but they said it might have just missed it or some other statement that dismissed my concerns.
But Dr. H actually brought up those specific concerns with me, asking if I ever lost track of the time or became disoriented. The hope must have shown in my posture or voice or something, because he stayed right on that topic. I told him about the walks with the dog, and about accidentally overdosing on medication because I forgot I had just taken it, and about the time it took me 4 hours to find my way home after taking my son to the emergency room of our local hospital. I could have taken hours to recite the countless times things happened along those lines, but he had heard enough. He asked me if I would be willing to close my eyes and just relax. Then he asked me what I saw. I told him I saw a large wooden door. He asked me if I could open it. I shrugged me shoulders – I had never tried to open it before. The strange part about it was I don’t think I could have told someone about the door if they brought it up in general conversation; but on a just barely conscious level I had always been aware of the presence of that door. After I had described the door and the surroundings, Dr. H suggested I attempt to open it so I did. It opened without any difficulty at all. He asked me what I saw behind the door. I told him there was a long corridor with doors on both sides.
That was enough for him. He had me open my eyes and we picked up with more questions about my experiences with previous mental health providers and about my family. Even though the discussion moved on, my mind was back on the door. Something inside me told me that bringing that door to conscious awareness had been a very significant and positive development in my therapy. A point of no return had been reached and I was excited to discover what was going to happen next as a result of opening that door. The session ended and a new appointment was made for the next month, but we (the many of me) were not about to just sit back and wait for a whole month to elapse before getting Abigail to pursue what was behind that door again. We started that very night to make strategic plans for how we would go about being discovered.
