I am one person. This is not immediately obvious.
Penny Lenihan, at Charing Cross, is my eighth psychiatrist. I liked her practical manner, and she shook me up, so that I don’t want to go where I am going this weekend. Cos it ain’t competent me that is going, but shit me, shit me who does fuck all and whom I despise. She observed me communicating calmly and well, and me weeping in anger frustration and sadness, and said “You compartmentalize”.
And I think that’s a bad thing, and I should stop, and I don’t even know what she means by it, particularly. One of my thoughts was that this is a good experience, because however unsettled I feel now I might get to better ways of coping. And now I think that I might bring things to consciousness: see what I am doing, see I have choices.
I got a different view of Serra Pitts. Dr Lenihan has some familiarity with my case, because she has been supervising Serra, who was a trainee and is no longer working with the clinic. I was unaware Serra was a trainee. It is “contrary to protocols” that trainees work with patients privately after sessions at the clinic end. Dr Lenihan will see that the new trainees are aware of the protocols, she says drily. And now I see, yes, that is appropriate; and Serra just not turning up for work does not mean Serra having great difficulty but Serra doing something any employer would object to.
We started by discussing what hormones I was on. She saw no reason for me to be on norethisterone, and did not think my emotional issues were anything to do with hormone doses, though she did want me to see the endocrinologist.. This morning I have been entirely miserable about that: so much of what I have done over the last four years to get my head together has been at best useless. So we were off to a bad start: I thought I would be discharged. She asked if I had been offered group therapy. Well, no; I would be willing to attend but needed it sold to me: what might I gain? So the offer of groups appeared rescinded, because I was insufficiently enthusiastic, and I was confused.
Like many group patients, I like to imagine I am better than the people I would meet in the group; and perhaps fear opening up to them.
Serra told me that the clinic is under great pressure to put patients through, and achieve desired outcomes. I should come knowing what I wanted to get out of it.
So because my emotional issues are not particularly related to transsexuality, she will refer me to my local CMHT. Yes, I do know that means Community Mental Health Trust. I know what they will say: “Sorry, we have no funding”. Well, I am not a risk of killing someone, and if I were they could always leave me to the prison system.
So I gave myself permission not to go to the AM clerks’ conference, and considered the possibility that I would be still tearful, there, and actually disrupt it, rather than merely gain nothing and give nothing to it; and decided that the risk was worth it, and that I could get there without undue difficulty, and would just go.