My friend who has just recently been discharged from a private psych clinic told me that in case I ever get admitted, it’s preferable to have private health insurance, because private hospitals are much more pleasant when compared with public hospitals. I gave a silent titter in my head. To be admitted to hospital would involve the people treating me to both take me seriously and give a toss. Evidently they do neither, as demonstrated when I overdosed the night of my psychiatrist appointment – I did forewarn her…
Anyways, considering I have been having monthly sessions with my psychologist, I am anticipating this Saturday’s session will be the last one for this year. Perfect opportunity to end treatment with her I think. Usually at the end of each session we will make the next appointment. I’m thinking something along the lines of, ‘I’m going away in January…I’ll erm…call you when I get back.’ I could try honesty and tell her I don’t feel it’s working quite well with her but I’m afraid to cause offence. In theory psychologists are meant to realise that not all patients are going to ‘fit’ with them, but I still can’t help being reluctant to tell her the truth.
If I manage to fob my psychologist off, I’m leaning towards cancelling my next appointment with my psychiatrist too. This bit will be easy – I just tell the receptionist I want to cancel my appointment, no I don’t want to reschedule and that’s that. If she’s going to discharge me as a patient anyway I don’t see much point in seeing her again.
Yes, my plan of action is most likely primarily born out of hurt and frustration. But I’m past caring. Besides, if I am discharged from mental health care, it’s probably only a matter of time before I find myself back in the system. I lasted about seven months last time between my previous psychologist failing to show up at my appointment and resuming with a new Mental Health Care Plan after an overdose. Perhaps next time round I could aim for eight?
I find myself torn between wanting to just get on with my life and succeed – go to Uni, commence the Occupational Therapy course, pass all my units and make nice friends, and wanting to give up – it’s all too hard, nothing’s changed, nothing’s going to change and might as resign to my future of amounting to nothing except a screw up. Or amounting to a dead person – I much prefer that option.
Either way, I am vehemently over being a consumer of mental health services. I realized this today whilst participating in an online live forum with the federal Minister for Mental Health, as part of the wider consultations that are taking place all over Australia about mental health care and services. It’s a topic I have too much to comment upon, and that’s not something to be proud of. How much I don’t want to be vastly experienced in this matter anymore.
Perhaps that shall be my reason to my psychologist – I no longer want to engage in mental health services because I’m tired of it, it allows me to indulge in the idea that I’m unwell and serves as an unwanted reminder that I have issues. Really, I think I’d fare better on my own. At least that way I’d be forced to just get on with it.