Alyx calls him Dr. Lousy.

A part of my treatment plan is not only taking the classes to learn how to beat anxiety, it involves talking to the therapist. (Thank you SNL for making it nearly impossible to say, read or write that word without thinking — The Rapist)
The rapist I am seeing is also the guy that teaches the classes. You remember the classes? the classes where if I just breath everything will be honkey dory? Yeah, same teacher.

After I sat down he just looks at me. I hate that. Why in God’s name do therapists do that?
“Sooooo, how’s it going?”

I proceed to tell him about the rainfall of disaster that was my life last week. I’m trying to fight off the cold sweat I am breaking into just sitting in that room with a half of a window and one door.

“Ya know. You can’t focus on the bad.” No, duh? I had just finished telling him that I was effected more than I had thought It would, but I am doing better now. I also mentioned that I haven’t had a panic attack in nearly 5 whole days.
“You have them that often?”
“Yeah. I have them daily. Mostly anxiety, but not the full blown panic attack.” I remind him.
“Ya know…there isn’t a difference between the two.”

*blink*

I inform him, that in my world THERE IS A DIFFERENCE. He tells me that I need to not focus on the anxiety attacks and just experience them. He tells me that I need to breath through them, I need to tell myself that I’m going to be OK and to relax with breathing.

Uh. OK. … No.

Now here is the example I gave to him to describe the difference between my anxiety attacks and my panic attacks:

My ‘anxiety’ attacks are sporadic moments of ‘scared shitless’. (You know that feeling you get when you think you lost your ATM card? You’re going to rear end someone? You child just fell down the stairs?)
I get those all the time. They come quickly and within a minute they subside.
My panic attacks are like all those moments rolled into one big one and it hits me like a roller coaster out of control.

He insisted that I can talk myself through either brand of anxiety, be it the 1 minute version or the 7 hour version.

I realize he’s not getting it. I try to tell him THIS way;

Sometimes you get a stomach ache. You’re in a social situation…a store, a meeting, the bank…it doesn’t matter. I can get through those, they are just small spurts.
Now, in comparison to the ‘stomach’ ache which is anxiety…you have full blown diarrhea which is the panic attack. If i’m in a social situation where I have stomach ache, I can cope. If I know I’m going to shit my pants, there is no talking me out of it. I got to get the hell out of there.

He asks me, “Have you been tested for irritable bowel syndrome?”

*sigh*

No, I don’t REALLY have a stomach ache or diarrhea …it was an analogy of the difference.

Whatever. I swear, I might have to start digging another hole in the backyard for this one.

I know, just fucking breath.