"A cripple walks amongst you
All you tired human beings
He's got all the things a cripple has
Not working arms and legs
And vital parts fall from his system
And dissolve in Scottish rain
Vitally he doesn't miss them He's too fucked up to care"
Is there a blacklist of patients out there that therapists pass around? Do I sound too desperate when I call, too damaged, too unstable? Why is it that yesterday he was about to set something up with me, than suddenly less than 24 hours after my message he just dumps me with a brief, "There isn't an opening in my practice. Sorry." No explanation. Can you just tell by my voice that you don't want me? At least with the therapist I called before this one it was a bit more clear; I made the mistake of saying 2 words about my history. Suddenly that opening he had stopped existing, the waiting list emerged out of nowhere, and that call he promised never came.
I still think about Sue every single day. I want to call her number, sobbing, get off the bus on the way to school and collapse in her office, beg her and Dale to take me back and rescue me from myself. I keep asking myself, still, did I do the right thing or make a mistake ruled by irrational thoughts and crazy emotions? Did I run away or pick myself up? Is it my fault or her's? And even if it's her fault, am I the one who drove her away?
"For the first time, I wonder: How much of what I feel as neglect has been fueled by the force of my constant need? How much can any person hold onto another who is perpetually falling?"
-The Buddha and the Borderline, Kiera Van Gelder