‘Oh fuck. Fuckfuckfuck what have I done?’ is going through my head right now.
Admitted to Dr T, my psychiatrist, that I have not been taking my medication. Part of the reason I came off them is because ‘recovery’ and ‘wellness’ scares me. I’ve felt like this for so long it’s become comfortable and familiar, no matter how awful it is. I even admitted as much to Dr T, much to my now regret and mortification. Part of it is also I am afraid of losing the minimal support I do have, although I didn’t admit that to her so at least I was able to save *some* face. What I forgot to consider was that if I came off medication I wouldn’t need a psychiatrist, and would therefore lose a source of support anyway. Duh. Shit. Upon telling her I was afraid of getting better, she responded by saying that it is perhaps because if I then get better and fail Uni again, I can’t blame it on depression. Perhaps it is simply that I don’t want to hear the truth, but I was less than pleased at her theory.
“I do see a few patients for just therapy who don’t take medication…but not many,” she said.
Even admitted to her that I’ve been thinking of overdosing because I’m so afraid of things going downhill, especially with starting Uni again next year, I fear failing again. Almost shed tears in the process too. But of course she neither cares nor takes me seriously- no one ever does.
She also told me that I need to think about my therapy with G, my psychologist. I told her I have, and considering there’s been a month between appointments and we *still* finish early with nothing to talk about, I’m not sure therapy is going well and I don’t really feel like I can talk to G. “Fair enough,” Dr T responded. Which means what exactly?!
I reported that I have been accepted into the Occupational Therapy course- she fully expects me to struggle through it. She was ‘just being honest with you [me],’ she says.
I next see her early January to ‘make some decisions regarding my treatment.’ What that means, I’d have no bloody clue.
So she didn’t explicitly state this, but I have taken it to mean that she is not going to see me as a patient anymore.
I’m now freaking out. Can’t. Fucking. Deal. With. ‘Professionals’. Letting. Me. Down. Over. And. Over. Again.
It’s ironic really, the first time I met with her I absolutely hated her and would have liked nothing better to have never seen her again. Over time, I got used to her and her ways, and what she said did start making a bit of sense. Due to recent circumstances, I am now back to absolutely loathing her.
Undoubtedly I have brought this all on myself, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less. I feel rejected, let down and like I’ve been given up on. Again.
Whatever happens next appointment, I am determined to keep my feelings and expressions absolutely neutral. No crying, no almost-crying again either. I will leave with some dignity at least.
Bloody useless ‘professionals’ who do more harm than good.
Maybe my ‘decision regarding treatment’ should be that I no longer want to see her, nor G, I just want to be left alone instead of being made worse by stupid psychiatric and/or psychological help.
Currently fighting the temptation to overdose. It just hurts too much, no one wants to help me, no one knows how to help me, nothing helps, and I’m just so through with it all.