Archive for February 17th, 2010

Trust in me

Trust …

What is it? I won’t bore you with the various dictionary definitions that I’ve found on the wibbly web but I like these:

  • the reliance on the integrity, strength, ability, surety, etc., of a person or thing
  • to rely upon or place confidence in someone or something
  • trust, assurance, confidence imply a feeling of security
  • trust implies instinctive unquestioning belief in and reliance upon something

Since getting the wobbles (which is one way of putting it, so long as you’re into understatements) in the winter and then finally venturing into the doctor’s surgery at the beginning of January I have met with and spoken to the following healthcare professionals:

  • Dr R on several occasions
  • Floral jumpsuit woman in Cardiff (a disaster)
  • The CPN with the mad hair (another emotional disaster but with positive outcomes)
  • At least five different members of the Somerset Mental Health Crisis Team on numerous occasions and over the phone
  • My “care co-ordinator”, Sparky
  • Nurse P
  • Dr D

I make that eleven different people.

Of the eleven, there’s only three that I can say I feel comfortable with – that I trust.

But I’ve had to share a piece of myself with all eleven.

And there’s more to come.

I’m on a waiting list for CBT (cognitive behaviour therapy) but we’re talking a wait of four to five months. And I’m contemplating the idea of asking Dr R to refer me for EMDR (eye movement desensitization and reprocessing).

Whatever I do, that’s a long list.

And yes, I know they’re on my team, I know they are there to help me, that it’s about what I need and what they can offer but I’ve only got a limited capacity of trust and it’s being rapidly used up in a series of stupid errors on their part, such as the whole experience meeting Floral Jumpsuit; when the CPN asked me some inappropriate and invasive questions; when the Crisis Team promised to make the referral for CBT but failed to do so on two separate occasions, turning what should have been a 16 week wait into nearly 19 weeks; and the way that the majority of people on that list seem to treat me like I’m rather dim, a silly schoolgirl, rather than a well-educated, intelligent, articulate, self-aware woman in her thirties who is quite clearly struggling with the notion of asking for help in the first place…

When I’m uncomfortable with a situation, my instinct is to withdraw into myself, to hide. If I’m relatively sane, I can control this. If I’m too far gone, then I don’t even know I’m doing it. I’ve never liked talking on the phone but since going bat shit, this problem has exploded ten-fold. I don’t know how many times I have explained this to certain people on the list but it keeps coming up as an issue. One example is the way I’m constantly told that if I’m in the process of hitting rock bottom, I should ring one of my “team”!

Another thing I’ve been told is that I need to develop a trusting relationship with Sparky.

If my “team” are screwing up the simple, practical things, if I can’t trust them to get those right, then how the hell can I put my faith in any of them? And why the hell should I have to hold their hands while they figure me out? Yes, I know they need to get to know me but it’s taking them a very long time to get to grips with the basics – not to mention the fact that I’m not really in a place right now where I can afford to hold anyone else’s hand without falling over myself!

I’m just finding the whole process to be rather disheartening and off-putting and what I really want is for them to start earning my trust by being pro-active and actually doing something. No more putting their heads on one side and making reassuring noises about how great it is that I’ve moved into a new flat, or that I was able to buy milk or whatever. When I’m feeling like myself, such comments are trite, patronising and embarrassing. And when I’m on a downward spiral, they’re nothing that I care about. Then I’m only interested in survival and anything woolly and wishy-washy is uninspiring at best and destructive at worst.

*takes a deep breath*

Apologies for that rant but believe me, you don’t know how much better it feels to get all that off my chest.

Have a nice day!