I have an appointment with my mental health practitioner (therapist from now on because it’s easier to type) and I haven’t done my thought diary since *checks* 29th of July :S Not that it would make very encouraging reading, I’ve mostly been in a mood ranging from despondent to suicidal in that period. I’m going to add some bits in about when I went to the riverside festival so that it doesn’t seem entirely negative but I don’t know what to do about my suicidal ideation. Last time she was quite concerned and asked me if it was “imminent” to which I replied no, but I don’t know if I could answer honestly if I was asked again. To be completely honest, I’m not even sure what the point would be in telling her. I have no desire to be “saved”, no matter what anyone says, I’ve already well and truly fucked my life up. I don’t blame anyone else, if I was more mentally tough then I wouldn’t have let the bullies grind me down and make it so I don’t want to live any more. I’m sure people go through much, much worse than I and don’t kill themselves. I don’t want to carry on down this road of fear, torment and depression for much longer. I’m a rubbish person, I embody everything bad about modern day people in this country. I have been sheltered from responsibility, had things handed to me on a silver platter and have found myself unable to cope with the harshness of reality.
I didn’t have the most privileged upbringing, we never got to go abroad on holiday or had 2 cars for example, but I wasn’t forced to get a job like my parents were, and I had things taken care of for me for far too long. I have become unable to cope. My few months in work were a soul crushing experience. I couldn’t stand the 3 hour commute on buses (I’m far too anxious to learn to drive) and dealing with angry people was just too much. I was almost brought to tears several times. What was worse was dealing with the other people who worked there. I was the only non-outgoing person and was constantly derided for it. I can’t handle how people are in the real world; unapologetically cruel, abusive and self serving. There’s no place for meek, weak willed and sensitive individuals like myself.
Oh well I got sidetracked on to one of the many reasons I no longer wish to live. I don’t much fancy spending 5 days a week wishing the hours to pass by as quickly as possible so I can retreat to the shelter of isolation and build my resolve up enough to face another day of soul crushing humiliation and constant reminders of my inadequacy.
So the therapist then… I think I’m just going to write a big entry tonight explaining how bad I’ve been feeling. I’ve avoided telling her the full extent in the past because I still held out a foolish hope that I might one day be prescribed something that actually works on anxiety, but I’ll probably be labelled an overdose risk or something now so SSRIs will be the best I can get. Speaking of anxiolytics, does anyone know how much Valium/diazepam it takes to kill you?
I may start working on my note to the family soon, I already wrote one once before in 2006 when I was at the hellish job, but luckily fate conspired to free me from that. It’s quite sad that my longest period of isolation and crushing blow after blow was still a welcome relief to working. Most of that one was explaining the symptoms of what I now know is social anxiety. I think it may come as a bit of shock to them just how pathetic I really am/was when they see it. No point sugar coating it – I’m a shitty person. If there was ever a case for objectively justifiable suicide, truly I am it.
13 thoughts on “Therapist Appointment”
“I’m a shitty person. If there was ever a case for objectively justifiable suicide, truly I am it.”
I guess you have to be honest with your therapist to get the right help. Even the meds I’m on are monitored by my parents. I.e. they have them locked in a safe box in their wardrobe to keep me out of harms way. It’d be unprofessional to withold things that could genuinely help, so maybe just bite the bullet and ask, or like you said write it down and hand the paper over. Maybe give it at the end so you don’t have to sit through her reading. She could call or talk to you about it the next time you saw her?
Who knows. Take care x
I’m intrigued that your mental health practitioner is a therapist.
I thought mine was going to be that (I was refered to him for CBT), but he claims to have a psych nurse background, and do symptom management, med review etc in order to keep people out of mainstream services.
A laudible aim, certainly, but he doesn’t seem to have done any of that either. He just goes “hmmmm”, and suggests I see him again in a month.
I’m tres confused by the “system”.
She isn’t really, I just can’t be bothered to type that out all the time. She is actually a nurse practitioner, whatever that is. That’s too bad that you haven’t had much help from yours 😦 I have been referred to someone-or-other for CBT and med review apparently but haven’t heard anything yet.
Yeah, I’m slightly very concerned about how much help he’s going to be. The first time I saw him, I truthfully ticked all the boxes on the multiple-choice form that were to do with risk – you know “I have mader plans to end my life this week”, that sort of thing.
He didn’t question me on current suicidal ideation at all the next time I saw him.
So what therapy are you doing with your MHP if youve been referred to someone else for CBT?
Pot luck with therapists I guess which is horrible but similar to the cancer drug thing if you think about it. You have to live in certains places to get the treatment. You have to live in certain places to get good therapy. Though therapy varies too with diff therapists and hell I’m rambling sorry x
I don’t think what I do with my MHP is any specific kind of therapy, it mostly consists of her looking concerned and me struggling to get any words to come out of my mouth. She does use some CBT techniques but that’s not her specialist area.
Yes Em, I know what you mean. I am quite lucky really, I know some other people with SA in different parts of the country who don’t get to see anyone, or only get an appointment with a counsellor like once every 6 weeks. Apparently the waiting list for CBT here is a year and I won’t even be in this city then, so goodness knows what I’m going to do
A year? Bimey, that’s an awfully long time!
I used to suffer with what I guess was SA (muteness except at home and intense fear of being around people/inability to relax except when alone). Bravo you for having the guts to deal with it, I was far too afraid to ever seek help from anyone, and it made it a *lot* harder to overcome it.
Yes it sucks 😦
Thank you, I was afraid for many years before I managed to talk to anyone about it. It was mostly desperation that finally made me crack and tell my sister and mum about it, who have helped me a lot.
I’ve only just stumbled here via Em and Chouette, so I’m just reading through.. but I wanted to say I know how it feels trying to be honest, but not feeling like you can.. especially when suicide is the topic involved.
Thanks ITS, I’m a bit ashamed of this blog now though. It was supposed to be about SA but I’ve ended up just going on and on about how depressed I am 😦
Nick – don’t be ashamed. Depression has a habit of entwining itself around your life and eking into every single bit of it. It is understandable that it has found its way into your blog. Don’t let writing about it make you feel ashamed, even if your intentions started differently. x
“on and on about how depressed I am”
Heh… in which case, you’re in very good company in the mental blogosphere at the moment. 😛
I’d like to know more about you.
I’ve dealt with panic attacks since the age of 12 and I am now 28 years old. It’s also accompanied by social anxiety and so I understand very much how you feel. I’ve been labeled a manic depressive too which is fabulous for my mental resume. Being called Bi-Polar means walking into every doc office and hospital looking like I have a giant dick tattooed on my forehead.
Anyway – currently I am at a loss. Close to suicide as well. I’ll probably never go through with it though because I care for my family, but that fact alone makes it agonizing. This is a nightmare. I came across your site…if you want to talk…I’m here …. firstname.lastname@example.org
Out of the blue and into the Psych Ward.