Crushing the therapeutic relationship

As required by the courts, I dragged myself off to see both my psychologist and psychiatrist yesterday. Yeah, I'll get their letters saying I'm not a psychotic wreck. But in so doing I've destroyed something quite special. If the court's were really worried about my mental health, their plan backfired horribly.

Psychologists and psychiatrists are meant to be safe havens where you can spill your deepest secrets out about how screwed up your life is. Think you're gonna do this when you simultaneously need a letter confirming that you are as steady as a rock and fit to actually be father to your daughter? No siree, I went there with a pre-written script. After all these years I know exactly what the psychiatrist/ologist want to hear, and I gave them just that.

In fact it was the first time ever that I ran out of things to say to Dr C, the therapist. Shame, the poor dude kept glancing at the clock above my head, anxious as to how he was going to fill the last 15 minutes. I've noticed this with psychologists. They always place their clocks in strategically positioned places so that they can glance at them surreptitiously to see how much more crap they have to endure, but at the same time not let you on that they are doing it. The clever ones put the clocks up on the wall just behind where you sit.

As to the psychiatrist, admittedly, I never tell the whole truth. I've learnt over time not to. I once walked into Dr R's office really positive at all the progress I'd made and when she asked me: "Howya doing?", I shot back "Very well".
"Not too well I hope?" was her reply, a paranoid glint in her eye.
Too well in her judgement, and the anti-psychotics would go up; anti-depressants down. So I know how to answer now:
"Any racing thoughts lately?"
"Nope"
"Any insomnia?"
"Not for months"
etc. etc. etc.
You gotta be careful of your body language too - any sign of too much enthusiasm or animated hand movements and the alarm bells will ring.
"Any depression lately?" Yeah, you can always answer that in the affirmative. Psychiatrists are surprisingly comfortable with depression, it's only excess happiness that sets off their panic.

So I suppose it was the therapeutic realtionship with Dr C (not Dr R) that was the real casualty. If I really wanted to I could always revert to whole-truth mode after receiving my mental health report. But that would have drawbacks. First, Dr C would realise he'd been conned. Second, this damn court may insist on a follow-up report on BipOlar Guy in 12 months time.

Therefore, I am presently therapistless. The ideal, I guess, would be to have 2 therapists. One for real therapy and one for report purposes. But to go find another one, spend hour and hours getting them up to speed on the twists and turns of my life (not to mention the money), is just not going to happen.

So WELL DONE justice department! You've got your report confirming that I'm receiving appropriate therapy. And I've got no therapist.

I had to help Miss L with her homework last night: Haiku. BPG loves haiku, so when L went to sleep I came up with this piece:

BiPolar they said
Wagging manicured fingers
In tune with neat heads