your delusional professional

I had just gotten back to my homework after a long break, but I found something interesting that I wanted to write down. hopefully it won’t take too long and I’ll actually get back to my homework.

I’ve been reading for weeks – it seems – about how to begin therapy with a client. the first few sessions are very critical – for getting to know the client and the problem, for making a plan for treatment, and for getting as much detail as possible. one example is assessing suicidality. the chapter I’m reading right now is talking about the types of observations to make about a client. we already went through behavior and nonverbal actions and affect and mood, and now we’re working through assessing a client’s thought processes. such as delusions or obsessions. under compulsions, which are repetitive actions that follow obsessions: “The most common examples are compulsion to wash hands, clean house, check the locks, and check to see if an intruder has gained entry into a bedroom or house.”

The last part of that sentence leaped off the page at me.

I consciously try to fight it, ever since I got this apartment. I try to tell myself that there’s no way someone could be standing in my back closet, crouched in my bathroom closet, hiding in my bathtub. it’s pretty unlikely that anyone could be trying to see in between the blinds over my windows. I guess those obsessions and compulsions to check are slowly getting better, in general.

today, when I unlocked and opened my front door, I was focused on a spider that I could see racing across the door. I didn’t want it to touch me or get inside my apartment, so I kept my eye on it as I slipped into my apartment. I closed the door, still facing it, my back to my living room, and realized in that moment as the door closed that for the first time I had stepped into my apartment without LOOKING into it first. I hadn’t realized before that I always check that everything is normal. I know that I always look at and greet my cat, who is always asleep on the couch. I always know that things are safe because she’s right there, asleep. (and then I always remind myself that even if a man was hiding in here, she’d probably fall asleep like normal anyway).

I no longer worry that someone is hiding in my bathroom closet because it’s now full. I used to be terrified to open the door, because I knew he’d jump out at me. even after I filled the closet with things. now I rarely think of it.

I always keep my shower curtain open, unless there’s company, so I don’t have to worry about that. right after company leaves, however, there’s always the first time that I enter the room, see the curtain drawn, and I’m sure there’s a man there. oh, I used to always take a shower, get out of the shower, and become convinced that a man was outside my bathroom door. I showered with the door opened only a crack. so when I ended my shower and reached for my towel, I would see the outline of the kitchen fridge through the crack, and without my glasses I knew it was a man waiting for me.

I do still worry about my back walk-in closet. I always look just enough into it to be fairly convinced that no one is there (though never certain). it doesn’t matter if I’ve been home all day – when I walk into my bedroom, I wonder if someone is there.

a few nights ago, I was reading in bed, trying to get drowsy enough to sleep, and I thought I heard sounds outside my window. they were quite faint. I remembered that the screen had fallen out of my window, making it even easier for someone to get in, and I was CERTAIN that a man was out there. I escaped my room, turned on lights, and sat in the living room for a few minutes. I decided I would sleep with my cell phone (and wondered why I usually didn’t – how dangerous!). I went back to my room, read for a while longer (heard no more sounds), and turned out the light. I fell asleep clutching my phone in both hands.

when all of this first started, it was quite severe. I checked doorknobs for locks multiple times a night. I hated taking showers because EVER time I ended it and reached for the towel, I thought of an intruder. I couldn’t stand any windows or having my back to any windows or doors.

now it’s just annoying. I know it’s all ridiculous. I KNOW there’s no one there, but I can’t stop thinking about it. it is slowly getting better, and it’s good to note that, but sometimes I wish I had a therapist, just so I could tell someone all of this.

sometimes I just feel so different. I’m convinced that no one in my class comes from a background like mine. and yet, I know that can’t be true. it just feels true. I read these assignments, and sometimes I’m reading about myself. I’m reading about observations that clinicians should be making about ME – such as compulsions to check for the man in my closet, waiting for me to turn out the light. I feel like an imposter to this whole thing – that I’m not going to make it, and someone is going to find out. someone is going to so say, “Ah HA!” and point their finger at me, and talk so loudly that everyone in the program – the professors, the classmates, the employers – will all hear and look at me when the person says, “I knew it! You’re not supposed to be here! You can’t be a clinical psychologist! You don’t belong with us!”

and I guess now you could say I’m having delusions, because obviously that’s not going to happen to me or anyone. I do have a past. sometimes, it does make this program harder for me. everyone has a past, and likely several of my classmates have their own histories that are making them struggle through the program. but in the end, what I have been through will make me an even better therapist for certain people. I’m not the only one with a painful history to go ahead and strive in my career. I have ALWAYS believed – and I need to remember that now – that what I have been through is what will make me good at this career. it was a hard life back then, and things are difficult now, and to some extent it always will be. but it’s all worth it, because someday I will help others who deserve the help that I didn’t necessarily receive when I was there.