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Being sick and in solitude for two years has put a lot of things into perspective, particularly my relationships with people in general. More importantly, I’ve unearthed parts of myself that I’d long forgotten, discovered why things happened in my life the way they did… and I have done this all on my own through writing/self-therapy.
Physically, nothing much has changed since I last posted in September. I’m not getting any better, but nothing has gotten worse. Since I still don’t feel well enough to do anything about 90% of the time, I stay home. When I do feel good enough to leave the house, I have to do chores and errands, which takes up the little energy I have. The very few times I’ve hung out with friends for only a couple of hours, before I didn’t feel well again and need to leave.
Food is often a problem, so much of my day is spent dealing with digestive issues. My body doesn’t tolerate pharmaceutical drugs well at all, so some I take on an “as needed” basis. Some medications were helping with pain and getting around easier, but I was overmedicated and vomiting. A clue to being overmedicated is when the ringing in my ears was getting worse and worse and wouldn’t stop. It was so loud, I had to drown it out with white noise. For now, I’m sticking to medical marijuana for pain and whatever supplements my stomach can handle. My stomach is so sensitive, even some of my supplements cause severe nausea, so anything stronger often makes me vomit for several hours or days.
Mentally, I feel in some ways I’m getting better by seeing through some of the bullshit behind people. But emotionally, I’m a fucking train wreck. One thing I can say is, dealing with anxiety, depression, and PTSD all alone isn’t fun! For the past several months, I’ve woken up most days wishing I was dead or my life would end abruptly. I realize things probably aren’t going to get better than where I’m at today, because life has left me a pile of shit. If things get worse… I can’t promise I’m going to stick around for it. I can only deal with so much with such little support.
Even worse, being overmedicated caused me to have conversations with myself in my head and say things out loud as if it was actually happening. After a few months, I quit taking what the psychiatrist and neurologist gave me for pain, which helped my stomach, but all of the pain came back. In the meantime, the psychiatrist changed jobs, and I am left in limbo until a new one is assigned.
Every night I went to sleep hoping I wouldn’t wake up. Being overmedicated only added to this, and some days it was almost all I could think about. I became suicidal to the point that I was trying to figure out how I was going to accomplish it quickly and with absolution but never devised an actual plan. I felt so miserable, I just wanted out. (I still do, but I don’t think about it all day long.) I thought the easiest thing I could do was cut my wrists, but I know how painful that would be, and I’m not a fan of blood. Many times, I felt that cutting myself might actually release pain. I didn’t do it, but now I see why people resort to cutting.
Besides all of that, I was still dealing with the creepy neighbor up until two weeks ago. His presence brought on so many triggers, I wasn’t aware of how bad my PTSD really is. Now that he is gone, I have felt more relaxed. Not surprisingly, other neighbors are also glad his creepy vibe is gone.
Even with everything aforementioned happening, people that supposedly care about me continued to stab me in the back. Last year, I cut more people out of my life, because they cause too much drama and/or pain. Some have proven to be one-sided friendships. Some people I’ve literally told off and blocked. Some I don’t have the energy to reply, because replying means beating a dead horse, over and over again, and repeating the same cycle. I simply do not have the energy or tolerance for bullshit from those who lack self-awareness and fail to try. It’s just a waste of time.
A whole lotta stuff has come out of my head these past few months, and I haven’t had the opportunity to get it out in counseling. My counselor/psychologist is disorganized, and sometimes she’s late, then messes around with technology (appointments are by video). By then, half of my appointment would be over. I noticed when I had an appointment at the end of the day, she seemed like she had somewhere to go, and my session felt rushed. I felt like she focused on things that aren’t important to me in the moment, so that I never actually said what I needed to say. For example, I might mention something about my physical health, and she would stop and focus on that instead letting me continue about what I really needed to say.
Other times, I felt she questioned me on things I told her that happened to me; she would ask or suggest maybe I was taking something the wrong way. Naturally, that made me feel invalidated, which is part of the reason I’m in counseling to begin with!
Many times, I’d tell her something, and then she’d spend a lot of time relating her personal stories. For example, when we spoke about self-care, I mentioned making body scrub. As if we were two friends having tea, she told me her friend makes this lotion and how great it feels… and she demonstrated how she loved rubbing it on her arms, and it was so soft… and her story rambled on. When I briefly mentioned having done online dating in the past, she went into a full-blown story about her experience on a dating app with a local prominent person. Her stories became too much a part of my session, and it was frustrating, because I didn’t care to hear them. At times, I felt I knew more about her than she did about me.
Two months ago, the psychologist gave me “assignments,” which gave me a lot of anxiety. Besides the time constraint, I wasn’t feeling well enough to write or think about things the way I really needed to. The content really affected my mental state, because it brought up things long forgotten that still affect me today. Then TWICE she postponed going over what I wrote! “Save it for later,” because she wasn’t ready with whatever she was planning to do with me. It was so upsetting and frustrating and emotionally devastating to have done this “homework” and have nowhere to go with my feelings for weeks… starting around Thanksgiving. I was so fucked up from it all, I couldn’t even put into words how I felt. It only made me feel more suicidal, and they already have me placed as high risk.
The last straw was when the psychologist canceled my much-needed appointment less than 24 hours the day before the holiday weekend. This did wonders for my abandonment issues, not to mention the timing was horrible for anyone suffering from depression, anxiety, and PTSD. The VA gave me the option to speak to someone else that day, but why would I speak to someone I’ve never met about an assignment someone else gave me? Instead, I put in my request for a new counselor. I’d had enough.
Throughout my life, I’ve done short-term counseling, and I have never had a counselor behave this way. When I am doing my part and someone else isn’t meeting me 50%, I will no longer work with them. I am done with being held accountable for something when there is no balance. If someone can’t meet me halfway in any relationship, including professional, I will walk away. I don’t even know how I managed to put up with this for so long, but I figured this is what people do when their normal has few boundaries and this is the treatment they’re used to.
Now I am in limbo waiting on a new counselor, and who knows what the new one will be like?