I've really struggled over whether to write this for well over a year, as I generally believe if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all. However, I found my experience with this counselor to be so dehumanizing that it debilitated me from seeking therapy I desperately needed for a long time now, and I don't want anyone else to go through the same thing.
When you first arrive at Dr. Frederick's office, you have some misgivings about the place. His office is a small cubbyhole at the back of a darkly lit hallway in the shadier part of town. You sit in his small lobby and fill out a several page form, which asks about your medications, medical history, current suicidal ideation, etc. I informed the form that I had bipolar and PTSD, and that I struggled with daily thoughts of suicidal ideation.
Dr. Frederick calls you into his office and asks for your insurance card. A large portion of the session is spent copying insurance and working out payment. He mentions, "If someone misses an appointment and has to reschedule, I charge an extra $25--that's how I get 'em!," and grins. He immediately starts to diagnose you. "Bipolar? You don't have bipolar. You have borderline," he explains. He scoffs at my past medication use. Medication is poison, is his mantra. He reads through several pages in the DSM manual. He diagnoses you with several new personality disorders you did not know you have. He role plays that you are the doctor, facetiously. With each diagnostic criteria, he asks, "Dr. ____, do you experience ____?" You're unsure. Yes, at times you've felt dependent on your partner--"Dependent personality disorder!" He then confirms your new diagnosis. He asks you what you do for a living and if you went to school. "I went to school and got an AES in Mechanical Engineering," I respond. "Engineering?? You don't strike me as the type," he sneers, invalidating what little aspect of my identity I have left. What I immediately thought, and in retrospect wish I'd said was, "Psychologist? You don't strike me as the type, either." I started looking around on all the self-aggrandizing plaques on his walls. There were awards I had never heard of, certificates from schools I was unsure even existed. At the end of the session, he finally looks down at the form you filled out, and reads aloud the boxes you've check marked, aghast: "YOU FEEL SUICIDAL ALMOST EVERY DAY??! YOU OFTEN THINK OF WAYS TO KILL YOURSELF??!" He's practically screaming. The chatter down the hallway goes quiet. Dr. Frederick declares that the session's over but when you come in next time he is guaranteed to fix you, as he "know(s) exactly what to do with people like you." He explains that if you decide you don't like him, after all, it's a sign of borderline personality disorder, because people with my disorder can only see people in black-and-white. Evidently many people have left his treatment with no explanation, and he insists that if I choose to do so I "face him like a man" and tell him why I'm choosing to do so.
So the next day, I take him up on it. I call and leave a message. I tell him he's a condescending prick. I tell him I do not see him aiding in my recovery in the least. He calls back and talks to another household member. Gives her personal information about me, schedules--with her, not me--another time for me to come back the next day so I don't kill myself (Messiah complex much?) I'm sure the $25 rescheduling fee did not cross his mind. Please, do yourself a favor and contact Marshall Psychiatry instead.