Posted by talesofacrazypsychmajor on March 31, 2011
I’m having a rough time.
I’m sorry I’m not able to be as articulate when I’m very upset.
Here is my stream of consciousness.
High school English teachers used to get angry with me for writing in this disjointed way.
In my freshman year of college a prof told me my notes read like poetry.
I hate transition sentences and formal paragraphs.
Figure the transitions out on your own.
I don’t deal well with uncertainty
So many thing are up in the air right now.
I don’t know where anything will land.
I made an urgent appointment on Monday to see #27
and then saw him again at my regularly scheduled Tuesday appointment.
I need more support that that, but I just can’t travel all the way there very easily
It’s very time consuming.
I have so many commits and have done so little for them.
I’m using being busy as an excuse for falling behind on everything.
Oh sorry I’m overwhelmed doing X so I couldn’t get to Y.
In reality I’ve just been crying in my apartment.
My most productivity I’ve done the past week is writing two emails and scanning something.
I’ve gone out and physically been present at places I needed to be, but am not there mentally.
I actually went out yesterday and did something social.
A major rarity for me.
An old friend, from before I was crazy.
And I’ve been crazy for a long time.
She is is town for a bit and I insisted upon seeing her.
She doesn’t know my crap.
And she is going through some of her own crap, so I was able to forget some of my crap while taking a supportive role.
I had a good time.
Then came home and remembered everything.
Took some Klonopin and knocked myself out to sleep.
I need more support than I have access to right now.
I wish I could have therapy every day.
There’s just no way for me to get there.
All these ideas running though my head.
Maybe I could go to the school counseling dept and just only share certain information.
To supplement my real therapy.
Nothing about suicidal ideation or cutting.
Not about the bottle of suicide vodka in my cupboard
And the Klonopin I’m hoarding
That I’m saving for a synergistic drug interaction
There’s suicide grapefruit juice too, but I got thirsty and drank it as regular grapefruit juice.
Just talk about the terrifying uncertainty of not knowing anything about how my life will look in 2 months.
That’s socially acceptable.
I’m allowed to be stressed about this.
My stress is just out of proportion.
But it’s too complicated to hide bits in therapy
I did that with #24.
I refused to tell her where I worked or when to school
It got a bit ridiculous.
I easily meet the major depressive episode criteria
But what does that mater?
It’s all arbitrary
When is it dysthmyia and when major depression?
The DSM makes it seem clear, but it’s complicated
I laugh in classes.
I seem like I have a plan.
I’m taking it in stride.
I just fake it for a few hours.
All the therapists I see every day.
Not as a patient but as a colleague and student.
I hear them talk about self-injury and borderlines
Representing those with serious psychopathology.
No idea I’m there among them.
Well maybe I’m not borderline.
It all depends who you ask.
I feel offended personally when by derogatory statements against borderlines
Even if I am not a part of this group, I am perceived as a part of it.
The statement is directed at me.
Even if it is is not about me.
I did everything right academically.
Except for being crazy.
What else could I have done?
But nothing I’ve done matters.
I’m still in limbo.
The states are higher for me.
It’s not about a job and a career.
It’s about when I will kill myself.
My desperation is high.
I want it to work.
in that sense I want to live.
But I can’t stand the uncertainty.
I convince myself it won’t work and I should skip the waiting.
It was the same in high school.
I got into my first choice school.
Everything worked out.
Stakes are raised here.
I need to get back to seeing S.M. for therapy.
It’s not just a job, any job.
It’s a job where I can be happy.
If I have the time i would go to a partial program in the day
That’s the level of support I need
Not a hospital
I’m not going to kill myself right now
But I need to keep things together so it stays that way
I’m envious of the UK bloggers who have access to this greater range of support services.
I just have therapy.
He’s (27) out of the office until Friday.
I didn’t listen to the whole voicemail message informing me
I hung up when I realized I’d have to wait.
He’s not that warm an supportive though.
More expressive on the expressive supportive continuum.
I need supportive now.
Crisis lines are only so helpful.
Awkward stranger pretending to care
Some better than others.
Sometimes i can ignore the awkwardness.
I hate giving background information.
I just want to pick up where I left off.
There’s a nice local crisis line, that allows that.
But their hours are few.
I always seem to freak out when they are closed.
You can leave a voicemail, they say.
But I’m scared to.
The national hotline.
The one that google recommends when you search about suicide methods
They connect to a random line.
Which is nice because calling specific ones I end up on hold.
Sometimes connected to ones where I’m not the target population.
Sometimes I get one where they say “Emergency Services this is ___”
I hang up, terrified.
I don’t want emergency services.
I just want to talk.
Don’t they realize they’re scaring people off with their greeting?
At the end of a crisis line call.
They have some time limit.
And they say call again anytime.
But I just feel rejected.
As they’ve kicked me off in the nicest way.
I have to go pretend to have my act together for the rest of the day.
Lots of talking and smiling and such.
So I’ll end this stream of consciousness post.
I usually put these in a more private blog, but I don’t think anyone reads that one.
Those are usually typo filled.
I tried to spell properly.
Some extra effort.
Just for you folks.
I’ll talk to you later.
And hope you’ll excuse the interruption from my typical posting format.