Painful Truths

I had another session with the mental health practitioner today, only a week from the last one. We intended to go over my negative thoughts and try to challenge them but I think I ended up frustrating her because I simply cannot believe any alternatives and I think her assessment of what I’m doing to myself is wrong. She thinks that there are 2 sides to me, one that has internalised the voice of the people who bullied me in the past and the real me who never stands up to it. I don’t see it that way though, I just think I am being realistic with myself and not overly critical.

I think it stems from a fear of people thinking that I am vain or full of myself, I am brutally honest about my own shortcomings. When she suggested that I should try and tell the “bully” to shut up and challenge it, it just struck me as impossible because I can’t lie to myself. It would be like trying to tell myself that I am not a man or I don’t have any legs. When I said to her that it would simply be denial, she said I sounded like I was being delusional, which scared me a bit.

We eventually returned to the topic of my suicidal ideation which has come flooding back over the last couple of days. She wanted to know if I had thought about how I might do it (as if I have thought about much else for the past 2 months) and asked me to tell her what method I would use. I simply couldn’t get the words to come out, neither could I explain why it was impossible for me to say them. Thinking it through now, I was afraid of appearing melodramatic in front of her. I can’t bring myself to say “I would jump off a bridge” aloud, it sounds so ridiculous coming from a privileged, spoiled layabout like me. I didn’t want to tell her my other, legally dubious plan either since it involves pharmaceuticals and I don’t want to end up in a hospital against my will. I ended up telling her that I did feel safe to be at home and that I wouldn’t do it, though I’m genuinely not sure whether I will or not. I wrote more on my note to the family and some to my online friends last night, I don’t know if I’ll feel like doing that when the time comes so I want to finish them now.

Enough depressing rambling for now.

Advertisement

Therapist Appointment

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.