Your Presence Is the Treatment. Or the Harm.
It is striking how many doctors, especially pain specialists, have doubly verified that I have a good therapist. Or a therapist. That I’m “in mental health care.”
I understand why they ask. They’re thinking it’s about mental health. And yeah, support for my mental health would be great. But the mental illness industry is not health or care. My doctors don’t know that. They’ve been sold the same false bill of goods, the plug-a-chemical-in-the-brain-and-change-your-thoughts idea of mental health. But they ask it in a way that tells me they don’t understand that they are my therapist, too.
Every one of my practitioners is my therapist. Has to be my therapist. Otherwise, they can’t be my practitioner.
That means they have to be able to see me, be with me, and meet me at the Interpersonal Neurobiology level. They have to attune, connect, and witness. They must express empathy.
These are things my nervous system requires if it’s ever going to have a chance to recover from insane amounts of cruelty and contempt at “caregiver” hands.
The people we turn to for help have the biggest influence on our nervous systems, positive or negative. My condition is so bad, and I’m so exhausted and fed up, that I have to demand that every one of my practitioners is capable of giving me what I need to survive.
The scant amount I’m getting is not sustainable. It’s killing me. I must receive the level of care I need from every practitioner I turn to for help, including you.
