I’ve had anxiety for as long as I can remember. It was in high school that I realised it was time to see a psychiatrist, when my therapist shocked me by suggesting that I might need to start using medication. Before that, I had thought I wasn’t ‘sick enough’ to require psychiatric-prescribed medication, but after some discussion, I realised I had nothing to lose. 

Finding a good psychiatrist took two years of trial and error until I finally met ‘the one’. For the first time, I had a doctor who looked at me as an individual beyond my mental illness. She never tried to force medication down my throat and answered any and all questions I had.

I was able to talk to her for longer than 10 minutes without being rushed out of her office, and I felt like she genuinely cared about my wellbeing. This was the routine we had up until last year – it was great.

Unfortunately, it was too good to be true. I went from seeing the psychiatrist every month to not being able to reach her at all. I’ve left countless messages, sent numerous emails and even sent texts asking about my medication, and I’ve been left with radio silence. I even had my primary care doctor reach out to her, but they were sent straight to voicemail too. 

It’s been nine months and I haven’t heard a single word. For my last refill, I had to go to the pharmacy and beg them to help me because I was out of medication; otherwise, I’d experience debilitating symptoms from stopping cold turkey. I felt pathetic. How could a doctor leave their patient stranded like that?

This triggered my abandonment sensitivity and left me with so many questions: am I a bad patient? Is she alive? How am I going to find a new doctor?

Even if she did suddenly return with an apology, there’s no way I could possibly let this psychiatrist be in charge of my care again. A bad month? Fine. Two months? OK. Nine? Completely unacceptable. 

I feel angry because I let her into my life, my mind, my soul — I told this person things that nobody else knew and I trusted her with that information. From losing my grandfather to going through a friendship breakup, I told her everything because I trusted her.

Let’s say I was ‘too much’ or she thought I needed a higher level of care. I wish she would have told me that instead of ghosting me. It would have stung a little bit, but sitting here with unanswered questions feels worse.

To this day, I’m beyond angry and upset about how this situation was handled. I’ve thought about leaving negative reviews on websites about the practitioner, but for now, I’m going to be the bigger person.

Although it has been painful, what this experience has taught me is that I’m stronger than I thought. I handled this.

Now that nine months have passed, I’m still left with anger and questions about what happened, but there’s not much I can do at this point other than move on. For me, this process has involved having extra sessions with my therapist to process this experience. It’s mind-boggling to me how I’ve had to start therapy again to process the effects of another practitioner, but this is what it’s come to. Also, I needed to look for a new psychiatrist.

If you’ve ever looked for a psychiatrist before, you’ll know it’s hard. The process is complicated further as most won’t take insurance (and charge $800 (£637) for 60 minutes, which I can’t afford).

After several months of going through the directories, I found a new doctor that I am seeing later this week. I’m nervous about how that’s going to pan out as I haven’t had great experiences in the past, but I’m left with no choice but to hope it’ll be better.

Frame Of Mind is Stylist’s home for all things mental health and the mind. From expert advice on the small changes you can make to improve your wellbeing to first-person essays and features on topics ranging from autism to antidepressants, we’ll be exploring mental health in all its forms. You can check out the series home page to get started.

Images: courtesy of Casey Clark