Thursday, July 13, 2023

My Psychiatrist Is ... Starting To Be Annoying

I haven't spoken to my therapist in quite a long while, at least a couple months.  I want to.  Really, I do.  But work has been a bear.  Whenever I work at a position other than The Main Department, I don't get out of work before a time where it seems reasonable to have a session with your psychologist, either in-person or (ever since the pandemic began) over the phone.  And I have not been in The Main Department much or at all in the past, oh, several months.  Co-worker absences also necessitate me working in general.  One of my co-workers had emergency surgery and literally is in traction for another month.  And I am in The Fourth Department all this week instead of just Monday and Tuesday because a co-worker has a family emergency spring up.

So I haven't had time to speak to him.  I guess it would be a little frustrating on his end that we do not have a set schedule.  And yet, it has been a little ... concerning to see him react by reaching out to me -- even when I have not scheduled a session with him.

I had a couple days off last week.  (These were planned in advance of my co-worker's surprise surgery, so even though they could have used the manpower, I decided to keep my staycation.)  That was the perfect time to speak with my shrink.  I set something up with his assistant.  We agreed upon a time: Last Thursday at 1.  So, after I ate al fresco at Centro and wound up at Glam Doll, I set up the shades in my car and waited for him to ring in.

And I waited.  And I waited.  I waited about an hour before I decided not to wait any longer.  It's not as if I had concrete plans, but as a general rule, I'm not going to wait for anyone for a long time if we had a set time we would meet.  Hey, I wanted to try Eat Street Crossing.  So I did.  And that's when my psychiatrist called.  Now, I could have just sat there and started talking to him.  I didn't have much to do.  But this is a therapy session, so I don't know if I want to blab my innermost secrets out on a patio, and besides, it gets noisy outdoors.  More than that, I thought I had given him enough time to call.  And I didn't feel obligated to delay any plans I conjured up in my head because he was late, however trivial those plans are.  So I told him I was busy and I'll speak to him later.

Later, turns out, was the next afternoon.  I really do want to talk with him, so I moved an optometrist appointment and exercise around to be at a park Friday at 3.  I think the woods are secluded enough to take in a therapy session over the phone.  But once again, he didn't call.  And as I think I have said from time to time here at WAF, lately he has been rather flighty with calling in at our supposedly-scheduled dates.  I don't understand what's going on.

What really scares and bugs me, however, is that, out of the blue, he called Tuesday afternoon.  I didn't pick up because I was at work.  But I think he knows that I have a daytime job.  I'm not completely convinced he confused Tuesday at 1 with last Thursday at 1.  He is getting up there in age, and I'm afraid I can't rule out cognitive issues.  And if he did know that we didn't schedule a time to talk Tuesday afternoon and just wanted to talk anyway, well, that's quite creepy.  I have spoken about his recent propensity to blur the boundary being doctor and patient.  Calling me up whenever to talk about whatever is a further trespass.  I don't know what to make of it, but I don't like it.

I am still trying to give him the benefit of the doubt.  With no regular time to meet (and we haven't had one really since before the pandemic started), I am not in a position to pass judgement on when my psychotherapist should talk to me, and I don't think I can be too upset that he wants to talk to me when I say that I want to talk to him.  But at the same time, I don't think it's too much to ask to call when I, you know, schedule a call.

So how come he can't call when I want him to, and he does call when I don't want him to?  This has gotten really annoying, to the point where I don't really look forward to speaking with him, at least now.  I am scared that he no longer sees this relationship as a professional one that requires boundaries.  I confide in him, I have told him things I haven't told anybody else, but that doesn't mean I want to shoot the bull whenever I'm bored.  I'm starting to believe he thinks we can, and that I want to.  That's ... not the case.  And now I don't feel like talking to him, about that or, really, anything else, for that matter.

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