A Proper Post

Just before Christmas, I went to see my new psychiatrist. My old one was one of the only healthcare professionals I’ve seen who I actually felt comfortable talking to and actually enjoyed spending time with. She seemed much more understanding and friendly than the others and helped me set some reasonable goals and didn’t patronise me. Unfortunately she moved on to another place and now I’m saddled with this creepy new guy. I found it really hard to speak to him, I totally froze up at a few points, that’s not happened for a while.  I also didn’t think he was very professional, he kept putting his hand on me, probably trying to comfort me and calm me down or something but I didn’t like it. Also there was a med student in there and when he went out of the room, he said I should talk to her which seemed rather unusual to me.

He didn’t seem to know much about me either, he spent a while reading my file at the start of the appointment. At one point he wanted to speak to the consultant but instead of asking me to wait in the waiting room like the others did, he phoned him while I was still in the room and read some things out of my file, which says that they aren’t supposed to be handled by the patient. He said something about avoidant personality disorder to them, which I’ve never been told about.

Towards the end of the appointment, he chastised me for using the phrase “I’m not sure” too often and said that I shouldn’t use it again. I don’t know how else I’m supposed to respond to questions to which I don’t know the answer. He also asked me if I see a CPN, and then asked why not when I told him that I don’t. Well I have no idea why not, I only know what one is from reading other mental health blogs. Very little has been explained to me about how the process works as I am shipped from doctor to doctor.

I really wish I could see someone else instead, but I don’t know who I could complain to or ask about it. Nobody told me who makes the decision about who I see, I just get letters in the post from the doctors’ secretary and I can hardly complain to them. Luckily I don’t need to see him again until the end of January, hopefully I can ask my mum to try and help me get things sorted before then.

In other news, my depression has lifted slightly over the past few days. Hearing back from a very reclusive and avoidant internet friend of mine cheered me up a lot. The suicidal thoughts are still there in my mind though. I don’t feel a sense of despair and crushing helplessness when I think them now though, it’s more an inevitable solution that I’m slowly drifting towards. I don’t know how much time I have left where I can tread water and pretend everything is ok. I found a more reliable sounding method than jumping and I know where I can get the required items now. I’m not feeling sad about this, it’s weird.

Getting “help”

I’ve all but given up on making this blog useful, apologies if you came here expecting something helpful.

I had another psychiatrist appointment last week. I faced the dilemma that many people with mental illness have to deal with; whether to say the right things, jump through their metaphorical hoops and and take the easy way out, or whether to face up to the hard task of telling it how it is and facing the consequences of that. Last time I took the first approach, she seemed quite pleased with the progress I was making. In the days leading up to my latest appointment though, I’ve been feeling extremely hopeless and suicidal again. It often seems to disappear as soon as I get the chance to talk to someone about it and I feel like I’m being overly dramatic by bringing it up but this time I was determined to speak the truth about it.

I haven’t been feeling the desperation that I did before, I don’t feel the need to go out there this minute and do it, it’s more of a realisation what my life is going to be like. The horrible truth hangs over me every day, reinforced more and more with every failed social interaction, every rejection, every person staring and laughing. I feel crushing jealousy as I see people with friends, even glancing at groups studying together brings out a great sadness in me. I am totally alone here, and everywhere except in my home. I can no longer see how I’m going to get past the fact that I am hopelessly socially retarded, my appearance scares people and I am incredibly boring. There’s too much to overcome before anyone would even be remotely interested in knowing me, never mind the fact that I’ve already established myself as the weirdo loner here. It could be worse, at least I know a couple of people’s names, but I never dare interrupt their groups to talk to them, even if I could think of something to say.

I managed to tell the psychiatrist that I have been having the thoughts again and then of course I had to talk to the terrifying consultant. He’s incredibly intense, always staring and picks apart everything you say. I already over analyse the way I say every single thing to make sure it’s no misinterpreted but he sends me into overdrive. It can take me 30 seconds to answer a simple question, I get scared he’s going to get angry at what I say, especially after he smashed his fist on the table after I deigned to ask about anti-anxiety medication. The end result of it all was that he didn’t seem to think I was serious about it and just upped my venlafaxine to 225mg and said I’d benefit from one to one psychotherapy. I was referred a couple of months ago but still haven’t heard anything.

I don’t know what to do with myself now. I wish it was possible to transfer a confident person into my situation (of course no normal person would be in this position in the first place) and see what they’d do. I simply have no idea. I could carry on going to lectures, sitting alone and speaking to no-one for practically the entire week. I’m scared of the people my flatmates bring around here, I’ve missed several meals because I’ve been too afraid to leave my room and go into the loud, social atmosphere of the kitchen.

I’m so screwed up, laughter scares me now. If I here a group of people (especially men) laughing it just triggers a fear response inside me. I suppose it’s some kind of Pavlovian response after all the years of mocking and torment but I wish I didn’t feel like it. I don’t have a clue how I’m ever going to be normal*.

* Now I know the usual response to this is that “nobody is normal” or normal people aren’t interesting, but that’s not what I mean. I think most people would agree it is pretty normal to have at least one friend. It’s reasonably normal to be capable of going out somewhere without being crippled by fear of being laughed at and humiliated. I’d love to have someone to talk to, who I didn’t feel like I had to put on a show just to seem like less of a freak to.

I was asked some difficult questions by the consultant; “Have you ever had any close friends?” Not since I was a young child. He asked about when I was about 15; “Lads have mates who they go out and do ‘lad’ things with” he said. Not me. I had people I hung around with in school because I was too scared to leave them (they bullied me as much or worse than the other people) but I never had the slightest desire to spend any more time than absolutely necessary with them. I never saw them outside of school. I’ve been a loner for the vast majority of my life, but that isn’t how I want to be. I’d say the problem is probably made worse by two enormous problems. First, I am not the kind of person people like. I’m no fun to be around, I’m far too quiet and I don’t like drunkenness and parties, I look hideous, I’m probably too arrogant and élitist in my own introverted way. Second, I lack the basic skills that seem to come naturally to other people, probably through trial and error when they were younger and social faux-pas weren’t as heavily punished. I find it incredibly hard to explain just how little I know about how to interact with people, a lot of people think they are “shy” or whatever, but I’ve not come across many as socially maladjusted as me. I know nothing about what people do, I know they don’t spend every waking hour reading or on the computer like me but all I have for reference is what I see on TV and in movies (which I do realise aren’t realistic, by the way). I feel completely out of place as a human adult.

New Meds

Went to the GP to get my new meds, venlafaxine (generic Effexor) yesterday. I have to start taking them tonight, not sure what to expect but I’m hoping there aren’t too many side effects. I wasn’t too bad when I first started citalopram so hopefully I’ll be ok this time too.

I had my last appointment with my MHP this morning as well which was sad because I had come to trust her more than I first expected and she seemed to understand me quite well. Apparently I seemed more “animated” and made more eye contact than usual and she seemed to think I looked a lot better than last time we saw each other. I spoke to her about possibly having meds for my anxiety and told her about how the psychiatrist I saw at A&E said I would benefit from having some diazepam for when I go to uni and she agreed that it would be good. She said I should definitely talk to the psychiatrist about it. They phoned this morning and asked me to come in Friday so I should have a chance to ask them before I go, I don’t know how receptive they will be to it though.

Apologies for the boring post but I don’t have much to write about at the moment. I’m trying to keep myself occupied until this Sunday when I move out :-O

How I got on

The appointment was surprisingly short, I spent most of the time there sitting around in a tiny waiting room trying to avoid catching peoples eye. The first doctor I saw was a junior psychiatrist, she asked me the usual questions that I’ve been asked many times before about my anxiety symptoms etc. I asked about diazepam but nothing came of it unfortunately. After talking about my suicidal feelings, she decided to discuss with the consultant and then asked me to come and talk to him. He was very intimidating, I felt like I was being interrogated. This just made me anxiety worse, I stumbled over words and my mind went blank several times but I think I managed to get my point across. There was a particularly painful moment when he asked if I had any close friends or girlfriend, to which I answered truthfully; no, and then he asked “Why not?”. My mind was overcome with all the hatred I have for myself and if I wasn’t so tongue tied with anxiety, I could probably have spent half an hour listing the many reasons why not. Eventually though I had to settle with “probably because I am so weird” which led to further questioning about why I think that, and of course why I think that I look weird which I couldn’t answer because I felt tears coming to my eyes. Thankfully he stopped the interrogation at that point and asked me to wait outside while he talked to the original doctor.

I went back to see her and apparently they are concerned about me, maybe it was the way I answered their questions because I was not feeling actively suicidal like I was the last time I saw my MHP who just sent me on my merry way. The outcome of it all is that I have got to have someone from the crisis team visit me at home today, which I didn’t really want but I couldn’t bring myself to argue with them about that. They also changed my medication to venlafaxine, an SNRI so hopefully that might make a slight difference though I am not expecting miracles.

I had hoped that I could relax slightly after the appointment was done but now I have to worry about this person coming round. Of course I had to tell my mum, but I didn’t say why they were coming exactly because I don’t want her to know how close I was to killing myself. She’s now gone on a mad cleaning spree that usually happens whenever we are expecting visitors. I just hope that she will give me some privacy because I don’t want her listening to me talk about such personal and potential hurtful things.

Psychiatrist Appointment Tomorrow

It’s here at last, I seem to have been waiting an eternity to see an actual psychiatrist. My appointment is tomorrow morning and the nerves had already set in a few days ago. I didn’t get more than 3 hours sleep last night, I was lying awake worrying until 4:30am, hopefully tonight will be a little better. That is actually something I want to talk to them about, my incredibly haphazard sleeping. One night I might only get a few hours, like yesterday, and sometimes I sleep in until 1 in the afternoon and can hardly stay awake during the day.

One thing I’m really hoping to get out of tomorrow is the opportunity to try some different meds. I’m coming up to one of the most stressful and difficult times in my life for a long time, leaving home and going to university. This seems like a valid situation where prescribing me some benzos would be useful. I don’t want to fall to pieces the first day I get there, I won’t have anyone to hold my hand and therapy is still a distant dream so it’d be nice to have some help. When I had the diazepam after my visit to A&E, it helped a lot to calm my shaking and racing heart/thoughts. I could really do with even a tiny supply of them to help get me through the most stressful few days.

I was always scared to ask about them before since I’d heard that they are almost impossible to get prescribed for social anxiety, but after seeing the psychiatrist at the hospital who recommended I could use them in the above scenario, I think I might grasp this chance and ask. One of my great fears is that they will think I am a drug seeker, when nothing could be further from the truth. I don’t smoke, take any illegal drugs or even drink for goodness sake, but it’s still a thought lingering in the back of my mind.

Goodness knows what will come of the appointment, I’m preparing myself for disappointment but also bearing in mind that it has taken months and months to get this arranged and I don’t want to miss my chance at possibly getting some help. I’m prepared to be honest with them and try my hardest to force the words out of my throat even though I know my body will make that as hard as possible.

I’ll report back after it’s all over.

Psychiatrist

Last week I finally got a letter from the psychiatrists telling my when my appointment would be; the 26th of September. That meant I would have to get the train back here for 9:30am on the Friday of my first week at university. Luckily I managed to get my mum to phone up and they could fit me in earlier on the 6th so I will be able to go before I leave for uni and before I have my last appointment with the mental health practitioner. I’m not entirely sure what will come of it, but I am hoping that possibly changing my medication might give me some relief from the crushing lows I’ve had recently and hopefully they’ll agree with the psych I saw at the hospital and give me some diazepam to use as needed. I could really do with some for when I start uni.

We had some bad news this evening, my mum’s boyfriend, K, phoned and told her that his daughters boyfriend, whom she met in Africa, has committed suicide by shooting himself. I felt terribly uneasy when she was talking about it, I’m not entirely sure that she realised how very close I was to ending my own life last Saturday, if she hadn’t returned home then there was a very high chance that I would have done it. For some reason she seemed much more upset about this person who she has never met than she did about me. I’m a horrible person for thinking this, but I can’t help feel a bit concerned about that. I have no idea about the circumstances surrounding his death, I’ve never meet him or K’s daughter, but I felt a bit hurt after my mum was going on about how tragic it was when she seemed to be ok after a quick 10 minute chat with me.