Something of a revelation today

when writing about my past addiction to chatting on the internet. A group started up again on Facebook for the old talker I used to hang around on - lots of old names, faces, friends and memories were brought up. Someone posted a very poignant and heartfelt story about their experience with the talker as an escape from depression and anxiety and I really identified with it, so I replied:

How thoroughly well put. This rings so many bells with me - I wasn't really in a good place when I started using the talker and it was a wonderful escape from all the shit that was going on at the time. I became thoroughly addicted, talked through work all day and screwed my job up over a number of years. As with you, it didn't start my depression but as an addiction that compounded the problem, I'd compare it to alcohol and many drugs in the way it can take over your mind. When work eventually caught me I was so relieved I cried my heart out, told them how thoroughly addicted I was and asked for help. They were great about it as a few of them knew about my situation outside work. They took me to a doctor who I poured my heart out to. I said "I'm addicted to chatting on the internet". He laughed. I've never forgotten that response, that medical professional who laughed in my face when I asked for help.

Fortunately I've broken away from depression over the past three or four years... mostly. I had a relapse at the start of this year but on the right track again. I've started a charity which takes people with low-level mental health issues out for country walks and listening and I'm about to start training as a counsellor, perhaps as a reaction to the doctor who laughed at me. Thanks, Dr Powrie, thanks for giving me an ultimate direction.

I'd not previously made the link between that event and my desire to move into counselling and help people. Adler helped me see the link - he had a bad experience with a medical professional and it drove him to be the best doctor and psychologist he could be, it moved him to altruism and the promotion of holistic therapy.

The image of the doctor laughing in my face, the feeling of disappointment, of a breach of trust, has popped into my mind occasionally over the past thirteen or fourteen years. I was amazed that someone who'd been through so much medical training and had been in practice for so many years could be so insensitive, even if the problem was entirely new to him. I'd spent months, maybe even up to a year, tied up tight in a definite addiction to online chat, and he laughed at me. I felt like a freak, like I'd done something wrong, like I was weak or incorrect or just plain stupid. I've never forgiven him for making me feel like that, it was deplorable and he was unprofessional and, had I been more adult and self-confident at the time, I'd have had him for it. I actually feel like trying to find him and emailing him and letting him know how I felt, but that wouldn't really achieve anything.

I'm sure it's obvious there's a raft of feelings involved in this whole memory, but my point was that I've made a link between that experience and my desire to help people now.