PIOP

Psychiatric Intensive Out-patient Program, or PIOP, was something I got put into by one of the good doctors I saw while in the military. It was basically a two-week long, seven to eight hour therapy group. The "curriculum" used several different techniques such as art therapy, psychodrama, CBT (cognitive behavioral therapy), and just regular talk/group therapy. I think there were six of us.

PIOP was the first time I ever did any kind of group therapy, and I was nervous as all hell. I don't particularly like speaking even one-on-one with someone I know, but this was in front of a group of strangers. Needless to say, Clonazepam was my best friend those two weeks.

The schedule differed a little everyday, and certain things like art and drama were only used a few times, but everyday we started with saying how last night went and then with a kind of warm-up. The warm-up was fairly simple--a family-friendly mash-up of musical chairs and "Never Have I Ever," or a race-type game involving CBT trivia--just to make us a little more apt to talk later.

This was a few years ago, so I can't remember all of it. I do, however, remember getting caught up in other people's therapy. This was after I decided I needed to be a therapist, so I was fascinated by the process.
Basically, one person would be convinced to talk about why they were there and about their past, and the rest of us were encouraged to comment, ask questions, and challenge that person's inconsistencies and distortions. I, being the weird, awkward fuck I am, really enjoyed this part. Listening to their stories and then giving them feedback.

Then it was my turn.

One of them expressed some solidarity when it came to my past abuse, but when it came to my biggest problem, no one--not even the facilitators--know what to say. I was struggling with the concept of self-worth. Not self-esteem, but worth. You can't have self-esteem unless you also agree that you are not simply taking up space and resources with your existence. It was a kind of existential crises that I was dealing with everyday, that no one there had even considered. They took their right to exist for granted. I'm sure it is probably an evolutionary thing. I did eventually figure this out, but that's another post. Basically they told me I "think too much."

Art therapy was fun, but not really helpful at the time. Psychodrama was lame except for a quick moment where I actually believed myself when I said that "I'm not worthless," and CBT and learning the drama triangle were enlightening, but I wouldn't use that until later.

All in all, it was a great experience. Most hospitals don't call it PIOP, but I'm willing to bet a lot have something similar; so if you need it, I'd totally recommend it.

Friday is another check-in, and Monday I'll write more on the whole "self-worth" thing.

Be well!
~ML