Saturday, February 12, 2005

Abusing myself

So I'm sitting here drinking to numb myself from the reality that I'm still alive and cutting to release some of this pent up rage. Self abuse, it's a wonderful thing. Some life huh? It won't be over soon enough.

The stupid fuckhead came and got the kiddie. They're going to some camp reunion type thing in Wisconsin at a camp he used to work at when he was in high school. Of course he wanted me to book a hotel for him since he doesn't have a credit card. I obliged, but only because he told me he'd pay me as soon as he picked the kiddie up. Glad I got the money. Now if only the fucker would pay me some of the other shit he owes me.

Someone asked the question what happened with the therapist the other day. Since I'm already raging and self mutilating, I suppose it won't do any further harm to write about it. For one thing, I straight up didn't like the bitch. She was trying to get way too personal for a first visit. Asking too many in depth questions after telling me she just wanted some general "get to know you" information. I don't care if she is a therapist, there still needs to be some level of trust before you start spewing intimate details like she was asking for.

Then she started in on telling me things I should do, and not even just one thing, multiple things. Said I should get a physical because sometimes other illnesses can mimic depression. Told her that other than a sinus infection, I know for a fact I'm fine physically. Then she tells me I should talk to my siblings about the abuse I suffered as a child, to be sure that it happened as I remember, as if I could possibly be making it up. Told her this isn't a case of repressed memory or anything. I remember in full detail most of the abuse I suffered, it's never left my mind. Then she tells me I should try making friends so I'm not sitting at home so much. Told her I don't fucking want to live, why the fuck would I want to try making friends right now?

The final straw that made me storm out of her office was when she told me that I would only be able to see her once every two weeks at most and she couldn't even guarantee that often. What the fuck kind of therapy is that? Sporadic visits might be ok for someone that is suffering situational depression because their damn dog died or something, but it isn't fucking going to help someone that is seriously ill and in a fight for their life. What the fuck are these people thinking? The bitch didn't even call to discuss why I stormed out of her office, which in itself is a sign that this just isn't the therapist for me. I have no idea if she heard any of the shit I was yelling as I left because she didn't get up and follow me out. If she heard the part where I said I was just going to fucking kill myself, she didn't call the cops at least.

Since I was raging, I decided to further try and torture myself. Yesterday I called my pdoc's office because I'd seen a therapist there once before that I liked, but because of all the shit hitting the fan in my life at the time, I couldn't handle going. Ended up having several hospitalizations during that time instead. But just my luck, the therapists at that office aren't credentialled to see patients with Medicaid, so they referred me to a different mental health center they are affiliated with. Turns out, it's the center thru which I'd joined the DBT group that turned out to be a fucking disaster. I left a message telling them I was looking for a therapist because the center closest to me is a fucking joke. Since it was Friday I didn't expect a call back, so we'll see if they return my call on Monday.

I don't know why I'm still torturing myself. There isn't help out there and I know it. But yet I just keep on punishing myself. Gawd I'm a fucking moron.


Anonymous Anonymous said...

Moronic or not, I am glad you are still here. To read your blog often makes me feel as though someone stole my thoughts and wrote them out. I feel so similarly. I am so sorry you are feeling how you are. I hope you can make it through. I was having such trouble finding a therapist, that I gave up there. It was too emotionally difficult. So, for now, I am going it alone. Drinking and using my PRN's when I need to. It isn't the best life. But, it's what I've got for now. Not having the stress of the system has helped a lot actually. Funny that they are supposed to help, but in so many instances they cause more damage. Fucked up system!
Take care for today.

2:40 PM, February 14, 2005  

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