Mental Illness ~ Counselor #2

(May, 2012: Working on indexing/categorizing pieces I've blogged. Transferring this piece from another blog.


Click here for the introduction to Mental Illness ~ Counselor #2.)
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In January, 1999, I sat in an examining room.  Another allergist.  Another ears, nose, and throat dude.  Two other medical doctors had referred me here.  Yet instead of ending up with the ENT, I ended up with his partner, Dr. Piva, an osteopath who specialized in allergies and heavy metal toxicity.  From a previous hospitalization, tests discovered my mercury levels were way high.

Dr. Piva was a couple years older than me.  He was of short stature, fit build, with dark hair.  He was Italian having moved to the USA from Italy with his parents when he was ten years old.

As I worked with Dr. Piva over the next three years, he became my knight in shining armor. It was the first time since 1981 that I could breathe freely; that I could breathe without steroids and constant inhalers and monitoring. I clung to him for help, sometimes too much.  It became a challenge for me and for him.  I would get afraid waiting for the next onslaught of drowning in my own fluid; but it didn't come.

Under his treatment the asthma became almost non-existent. That freed up energy and resources to then begin work on other areas - severe hives, body aches, mood swings, digestive problems and more.  In mid to latter 2000 Dr. Piva thought I might benefit from some psychological counseling. He urged me to see a secular psychologist whom he knew, Dr. McColloch.

I was afraid to see a secular psychologist; what if he required me to do something Biblically weird. "What can Dr. McColloch do that you and I can't do?" I asked Dr. Piva after he helped calm my spiritual fears. He answered, "Mental health is his field.  He has decades of experience in that area; I dont.  I don't know what else to do for you in that area."

I hated going to new doctors. I despised recounting my damn history. But I agreed and made the appointment. One of my main goals in seeing Dr. McColloch was to discover how many of my physical symptoms were due to emotional suppression.

Dr. McColloch's office was upstairs in a condominium office complex.  In one room were a bunch of toys, for when he saw children. Dr. McColloch was fifteen or so years older than I. Over the course of time I learned that he'd been married to his wife for decades.  They had raised two children who were now adults. He talked with his children via phone almost every day; they were emotionally close.

Dr. McColloch was originally from Oklahoma. He had practiced psychology in California, the Northeast, the Midwest, and now the Bible-belt South.  I once asked Dr. McColloch, "Do you go to church?"  He gently replied, "No."  I was glad he didn't go to church.

During my first six to eight visits, we plowed through my history.  My husband came with me for a couple of those appointments, the ones where I had to reveal my shameful behavior of AWOLing two different times from The Way Corps.  I began to wheeze during those sessions.

I hated those years, the years I had failed my calling and copped out on my Corps commitment. They haunted me like a wretched invisible rabid monkey. It was during those years I had developed the asthma. And now shame upon shame, I sat in another office relaying my god-damned, fucked-up history. What a horrible excuse for a believer I was.

Once I was finished with my history Dr. McColloch stated, "Let's begin with the obvious.  Do you realize that you have over-active emotional responses?"  I was stunned. I really hadn't realized that; I thought everyone struggled inside like I did.

During my first two years with Dr. McColloch, I stayed on my spiritual toes; the Ministry was never to be blamed. I had been indoctrinated that unbelievers cannot understand spiritual matters; Dr. McColloch was an unbeliever. I had to learn to navigate.

Part of the time I saw Dr. McColloch, I also saw a psychiatrist, Dr. Edwards, for about 10 months.  But we didn't spend time in counseling; I saw him mainly to manage medications.

Like Dr. Piva, Dr. McColloch listened to me; he heard me.  I knew this because he asked the right questions. I began to trust him. Though he wasn't old enough to be my father, he felt like a father in a sense.

I asked him, "What will I do when you retire?"  I really thought I'd never be able to live without him. He said he didn't plan on retiring, but rather he planned to cut back on his hours.  He loved his work. He assured me that if I was becoming too dependent on him that he'd let me know and we would address that. He was confident there would come a time where I wouldn't need him.  He was right. I began to wean from him in mid-2004.

I dug through tunnels of emotional debris with the help of Dr. McColloch. He held my hand as I'd navigate through emotional obstacle courses.  He gently helped me acknowledge past experiences which I was afraid of; he helped me see that my built-in responses were 'understandable.'  He helped teach me to regulate my emotions, not to suppress or deny them. He helped me through suicidal ideations. He helped me learn to think and recognize distorted thoughts.

I still utilized his services coinciding with Janet, counselor number three, who I started seeing in 2004.

At some point I informed Way leadership that I was seeing a psychologist.

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