Friday, January 7, 2011
Is this the beginning?
Today my therapist told me to call her if I need her between sessions. I think I worried her on Thursday and today. The offer was weird and not something I will ever do except to cancel our session or something like that. I would never want to contact her on her own time. That's her time. I pay for one hour twice a week. I don't deserve more than I pay for nor would I ever take it. "Why would I do that?" She responded with, "So I can be there with you and you won't be as alone or isolated (emotionally)." Then I said, "I'll still be alone even if I call you." She agreed that I was right, but still wants me to call her so she can be there for me. I guess it's sweet, but I don't think it's a sincere offer and I guess the prospect that it might be freaks me out a little.
We had been talking about my intrusive thoughts. It doesn't matter where I am or what I am doing, sometimes I get sucked into this world in my head of unpleasant thoughts, feelings, memories, and I forget where I really am. When I finally come back to earth, it freaks me out a little bit that I'm here and not there. It makes me feel crazy. I'm no longer having a good time, but I have to pretend like I'm having a good time because I don't want to freak anyone else out. I don't want other people to know just how crazy I am. Then I get angry at myself for not being able to control it. This has happened to me since I was pretty young, but lately it has gotten worse. Lately I'm not able to pull myself back as quickly. I really think I'm losing it. I'm not sure it's worth it to fight it anymore. Isn't mental illness inevitable for me anyway? Fighting it is just futile. I should just accept that I'm crazy. I should just accept that I will always be crazy and that it will never get any better. Medication doesn't help. Therapy doesn't help. I'm always going to feel like this. I'm always going to feel like I'm dying. Always. I'm always going to be such a fucked up, self-pitying loser. I thought life was going to get better when I grew up but it didn't.
She asked me if I ever have thoughts of hurting myself or suicide. That's one loaded question. She should have just asked, "would you like me to lock you up?" I said, "no." And she asked me if I was just saying that. I didn't answer. "Let me rephrase that. Would you tell me if you were having those thoughts?" I said, "no." She asked me why and I told her because she could make my life even harder. She said, "because I would try to protect you and the steps to get there are pretty hard and scary." I didn't answer. I wasn't sure if it was a question or not. She said she would like to know if I was having those kinds of thoughts because she cares. Cares? About what? Me? Her career? The money? Telling your therapist of those kinds of thoughts is the same as committing yourself. That is not something I think I need. It's not something I think will help me. It's not something I want and I know it will make it nearly impossible for me to adopt a child in the future. I think it would make becoming a therapist nearly impossible as well, if that's what I really want to do. I can't imagine calling into work in that scenario. "Hey, I can't come to work today because I've been committed." I will not call into work crazy. Not going to happen. Besides it's pretty clear that I'm horrible at attempting suicide. I failed twice with pills, and when I was 15 I tried to shoot myself in the head with my foster parents gun, but missed because my wrist was too weak for the kickback. Before all of you freak--Don't worry. I'm not suicidal.