You Get What You Pay For

Well, it happened. My therapist terminated me. She said she doesn't want to see me anymore. Apparently I hurt her feelings. I told her that I did not respect her opinions and that I did not consider her to be an expert. She took particular offense to my statement that I did not consider her to be an expert. "You don't think I'm an expert?" "No, I don't." "Well, in that case," she said, "don't bother coming here anymore."

But it's true. I don't value her as a therapist. She treated me like an automaton the entire time I'd been seeing her, since May 2, 2003. She told me what to think, what to feel, what to say in different situations, what I should not have said in different situations, and even how to act. She calls her therapy "cognitive-behavioral therapy." I think she's just an autocrat who uses the label cognitive therapist to rationalize her authoritarianism.

She would negate everything I felt. She even claimed, on occasion, that I didn't even believe the things I was telling her--in effect, calling me a liar. Well, I know when I'm lying, and I can tell you that I was not lying about the things she said I was lying about.

She allowed me no opportunity to express myself: to explore my thoughts and feelings. "What do you think I am," she said on one occasion, "a friend who you can talk to, someone you would talk to over a cup of coffee?" Well, in some sense isn't that what therapists are -- or should be?

She would intrude on my narrative to issue her inane and authoritarian directives. "Don't think that. Don't feel that!" Well, I happen to be an independent-minded person. I think what I think. I feel what I feel. I don't have control over what I think and feel. And I'll be damned if I will allow someone who I don't even respect to try to manipulate my thoughts and feelings. I felt like a puppet and she was the puppet-master. An uncooperative puppet, to be sure.

But you get what you pay for. I am a patient at a public mental health clinic in the District of Columbia. Treatment is provided free of charge.

What I can't understand is her background. She has a phenomenal resume. She has a Ph.D. in psychology from New York University. She claims she was a star pupil, in fact. She also later served on the faculty at NYU. She was a therapist at Bellevue Hospital in New York. She has worked in forensics at Ryker's Island in New York. She has published numerous papers, and was even invited to deliver a paper before the New York Academy of Sciences. Can all these people be wrong about her? Is it possible that she is not only competent but also, perhaps, brilliant in her field?

All I can say is that she left me feeling frustrated and very distressed. Maybe it's just me. Maybe I'm the only person who was dissatisfied with her. She claims all her other patients value her a great deal.

The fact is, however, I myself am somewhat of an expert in psychotherapy. I've been in therapy for many years now, twenty-eight to be exact. I've seen many therapists: psychiatrists and psychologists. I've had brilliant therapists in the past, people I valued. One of my psychiatrists was a graduate of Columbia, another a graduate of Harvard, and yet another had a degree from The University of Pennsylvania. I can judge a competent and brilliant therapist when I see one. Believe me, my therapist (or former therapist) -- The Mad Monk, as I call her -- had none of the qualities I valued in other therapists.

Then there's the objective fact that my condition worsened dramatically while I was seeing The Mad Monk.

On March 16, 2004 I was banned from group therapy, sponsored by the DC Department of Mental Health because I experienced a hysterical outburst. Security guards had to be summoned and I was assessed by a psychiatrist for involuntary commitment to a mental hospital. It was determined that I did not present a danger to myself or others and I was allowed to go home.

On March 17, 2004 my then treating psychiatrist diagnosed me with paranoid schizophrenia, and later recommended that I admit myself to a hospital. She advised her colleagues that she was afraid to be alone with me, and her subsequent meetings with me were held with other persons present. A staff person recommended that I admit myself to The Washington Hospital Center. On March 17, 2004 The Mad Monk herself wrote in my treatment plan that I suffered from paranoid schizophrenia.

On April 21, 2004 I was banned from my local library for a period of six months because of conduct that the branch librarian deemed inappropriate and suggestive of serious mental illness. The Metro DC Police were summoned, who reviewed with me the procedures for having myself admitted to a hospital. The police reviewed with me the advisability of admitting myself to Georgetown University Hospital. The police further stated that they was concerned about my future behavior and potential for violence.

On October 12, 2004 ten Metro DC Police officers and four FBI agents - would you believe it? - were sent to my home because of a letter I had written that was deemed by the police to be a product of severe mental illness. The police transported me in handcuffs to DC General Hospital for an emergency forensic psychiatric evaluation. I was assessed by a psychiatrist at DC General who determined that my case did not warrant a hospital admission.

I mean this is some pretty heavy stuff. I just didn't have problems like this before I started seeing The Mad Monk in May 2003.Like I say, the therapy was free. Proving once again, you get what you pay for!