A Losing Battle

I went for my assessment yesterday, an I came away wondering how it went, because I couldn’t really call it…

At first I didn’t even know about the appointment, the letter I got said I had to phone in an arrange one, though I left it a while, I finally did, they had already arranged one, which of course was yesterday, so lucky I did call or how would I have known

it was a women, agnes, I don’t usually give names, but I don’t see the harm this time, I told her how I was feeling, an what I’m going through lately, plus answered the usual questions they ask about your appetite, sleep pattern, do you drink or take drugs etc…

That aside, ahead is basically what the appointment, and the aftermath boiled down to

I told her I hadn’t been taking my tablets lately, the ones for depression and anxiety, though I’m still taking my seroquel, that I’d been saving them for what I call ‘my back door, my way out’, that speaks for itself, she said that’s probably to blame for how I’m feeling, though I’ve felt this way for months, an let’s not forget I’ve been taking them for years

Its like she had a psychology hand book in her head, flicking through the pages to find the next thing to say, she got ahead of herself an me, before I had even gotten there

Maybe if she had let me talk, instead of cutting me off all the time, she would have formed a bigger picture, besides coming to her own conclusions

She said she’d have my tablets taken off me, that they were expensive, an she did, I got a call from my doctor today, telling me that I’d no longer receive the ones for depression, the doctor was told I hadn’t been taking them for months, when really its only been one month, he said I had to hand the ones I had over to the pharmacy, I didn’t say I would, and I’m not going to either

I put myself in this situation, yes, but why argue the point of medication, to them have them taken from me all together, two wrongs don’t make a right

In a way I think, although I was being honest, I was testing her, she may have studied in psychology, but I’m always two steps ahead, after all, we only tell people as much as we want them to know, besides, I still have my seroquel, I guess you see now where it leads

Someone has tablets, with the intent of abusing them, so you remove that tablet, yet still give that person another set of medication, which are a lot stronger than the ones taken from them, this is exactly the point I’ve been making about the people I see for help

I’m not worried, my doctors I’ve come to learn are fools, I don’t mean in a gullible way, they just concentrate to much on an end goal, I know all I’d have to do is make an appointment with doctor H, say I had a moment of weakness, an I’m sorry, I need the medication, an promise not to do it again, an I’ll have them returned to me

Maybe It all seems immature and pathetic, but sometimes these people drive me insane, during my appointment with agnes, its like what I said meant nothing, she started offering me anxiety meetings, and saying how in the past I’d mentioned I might like to go to this day centre for people like me, which is ok, but I was ready then, I was in a better place, I’m not in that state of mind anymore, though I’d like to be

Then she started on this new age nonsense ‘you need to believe to achieve’.. I think she thought that was some gem, a pearl of wisdom, because then she started making the same point in different ways, with that slogan being the main one, then she went on to demonstrate how she had applied that logic to her own life, how she’d been on a diet, an wanted to start going walking, an how she made herself get out there an do it, it made me a little angry

She went on and on, ‘only you can do it, you just have to take the first step, its fifty percent tablets, fifty percent you etc, I told her that, that wasn’t really something she should be saying to a suicidal person

If it is fifty percent tablets/fifty percent me, then I guess that makes her, and others like her pretty pointless

I just sat there listening to her ramble on for what seemed like forever, all the while trying hard not to roll my eyes, (this must be how they feel listening to us) she wondered why I wanted help, if I was refusing her offers, but didn’t she think, maybe I just wanted to talk, to simply talk to someone, a little patience maybe guidance, no she didn’t, an that’s what’s wrong with people like her

She was right that I need more structure and routine, but she assumed that I never have, that this along with not taking my medication, is what brought about my resulting state of mind, but as I’ve explained, this is not the case, though its true that this hasn’t helped

There is no secret cure, its about taking little steps, that hopefully one day lead to bigger ones, an I’ve realised I can’t do that alone, so that’s why I ask for help, I don’t want to have to do her job for her, but maybe I should have told her that

You can’t jump past the finish line at the start of the race, you can’t finish before you’ve started

I see her again in two weeks, I feel a little insulted if I’m honest though, I know she’s only a counsellor, who by trade are masters in ‘talk therapy’ an they sure do, talk that is, but I wanted to see a psychiatrist, I don’t want someone who has to report back to someone else, I want to see the person who is reported too, someone who actually has the power to make change, which as you probably know, counsellors don’t really have, I’m not ungrateful, just disappointed

Its like a losing battle you’ll never win, bad mental health workers are like programmed robots, they all say, an tell you the same things you’ve heard a million times

At the end of the day, some will agree with me, others won’t, this is only my point of view, right or wrong


Hallucinations And Whispers

Hey, checking in with a quick update…

I’ve been doing a bit of soul searching, looking within myself, mainly because I’ve been pushed to a point where I’m becoming more an more unstable

I’ve been quite paranoid over the last while, questioning everyone around me, convinced people are out to get me, an making plans behind my back, my doctors and even my family

My doctors never take me seriously, they’d rather pin stupid labels on me like ‘historian’, they take away the things that actually help me, they beat down everything I say, I actually have panic attacks now before every appointment, and become suicidal afterwards, but its like they know, because of my social phobia I won’t leave that surgery, I think they have become bored with me, and can’t wait to see the back of me

My family seem to ignore me lately, there’s this strange atmosphere between mum an I, probably because there’s people whispering, I told my aunt that I’m going to look for my own place to live, because I hate it here now

During the day, my step-dad is at work, mum an I hardly talk, we are in separate rooms all the time, mum an my step-dad go out most evenings an I’m home alone a lot, I might as well not be here, we live together, but live separate lives under the same roof, its them, and me, perhaps if I wasn’t here, I’d be appreciated more, I’m 28 now, so either way its time

If I hadn’t grown up in foster-care, I would have been gone long ago, I just wanted to make up for lost time, but I’ve come to realise, an have known for some time now that my family are so selfish and self absorbed, I’m dying here, with them, each day that passes, I become more angry, more bitter and resentful

If I’m honest, I’m hurt, hurt that I’m always left behind, forgotten, that I don’t really have anyone now, its just me, though in a way it always has been, I let my guard down, an I got hurt, usually I just switch off my emotions, become numb, or I hold on to my anger, because it keeps me strong

When its just me, it doesn’t help when, as I told you, I’ve been hallucinating more lately, though my doctor said they weren’t hallucinations, so I’ll call them visual disturbances

I’ve had them in the past, but they went away, back then I’d see ghosts, at times I’d see a victorian maid, and I’d seen four shadows in cloaks running through my room, the scariest was an old woman’s spirit, crawling up the stairs after me, they make you jump, but then after a while they become so normal

Lately it started with things like my cat smiling at me with the mouth of a piranha, then the man staring at me over the fence, I’ll see things on shelves that aren’t there, or spiders crawling toward me, sometimes I’ll hear whispers, people calling my name, it can be scary when you can’t tell if something is real or just a vision anymore

I’ve been breaking down a lot more lately, I know myself I’m beginning to lose my grip on reality, an its turning me into someone I don’t recognise anymore, as disturbing as it is, I look at myself in the mirror sometimes, an I see my face, but its not me looking back

I have an appointment with my mental health team tomorrow, so hopefully some good will come from it!