Part XVIII: Progress Faces An Intervention…
Even though I had turned my back on the mental health system, I couldn’t shake them from my life completely because that disability pay and health insurance required me to continue to “get help” for my condition. I couldn’t bring myself to get off the meds either. I mean, what if they were right?
With my life and my faith destroyed, there was nothing left that I knew for certain. Hell, I didn’t even know I was going to drink that bottle of antifreeze. It was just one of many ideas.
During all this time, Tom Lynch had been fired from the Mental Health Centre and started his own practice. I had left MHC for Tom’s practice and the only private psychiatrist in the area that took my insurance. And, today, I had an appointment with Tom Lynch.
When I showed up, there was no waiting. That was my first clue something was odd. His office door was wide open. I could see him at his desk, so I walked in but, when I did, I noticed my family sitting in there too. It was an ambush. I turned around and walked out, but Tom ran out and met me in the hallway.
“Come in and give us a chance,” he begged.
“Why should I trust you?”
“We’re only here because we care about you,” he insisted, “We’re not going to make you do anything you don’t want to do.”
So, against my better judgement, I turned around and walked back into the office.
I can’t say I was surprised at what awaited me. Even in my weak emotional state, I recognised an emotional ambush when I saw one. One after another, they kept pounding me with appeals to my fear about what might happen to me if I didn’t go back to the hospital. They projected these fears to themselves, as to portray themselves as merely concerned about my wellbeing, but I knew what they were doing. Everything they said was a carefully handpicked argument especially tailored to my own fears, but to meet the end of their agenda.
I didn’t have time to defend myself because, every time I tried, they would slam me with some other argument. The five minutes I was in there seemed like an eternity. I just stood up, threw my hands out, and I screamed, “I don’t have to take this from you! You’re my Goddamn family! You’re supposed to care!”
I didn’t listen to the assertions that they did care. People who care don’t set up ambushes. I just walked out. Tom chased me again, but this time I just kept walking. He stopped chasing at the doorway to his suite, but he kept calling out to me as long as I was in earshot. Once he was satisfied I wasn’t coming back in, he went in and told them all God knows what. I know they were in there a while. I sat in my car waiting a good half an hour for them to come out and they never did. What were they plotting? Were they discussing a plan to have me committed again?
No. I wasn’t going to let that happen. I had always thought, if I just left town the first time before they had the opportunity, I’d be better off. I started the car and began to drive.