Monday, July 13, 2009

Stripped away

A tearful, emotional wreck is what my therapist had to deal with today. Every bit of the hopelessness I've been feeling and trying to suppress since I was last in the hospital was regurgitated into the air of her office the moment I opened my mouth. The quickness with which it spewed forth and the heaviness of it all caught us both completely off guard.

NEVER have I broken down in front of anyone the way I did today and I'm still stunned that I wasn't able to prevent it from happening. I feel ashamed, vulnerable, all my protective walls were stripped away in a split second, revealing the weak, frightened little girl I've always kept locked behind them.

My T tried to assure me that it was okay to let it out. Said that I didn't need to keep up the same fake facade I do when I'm around my daughter, and everyone else, that everything is okay so they don't constantly worry about me, worry that I'm going to commit suicide. That her office was a safe haven to release all those emotions.

Why her? Why now? And most of all, why wasn't I strong enough to hold everything back like I usually do? Her biggest concern was of course for my safety. She kept asking if I should be in the hospital. When I said no, she said that she would accept that answer because apparently all my previous therapists at this center told her that I know best when I can no longer keep myself safe and need to be inpatient.

My response was if that were so true, then why did I try to kill myself earlier this year. Of course she knew nothing about that incident in April, and neither did anyone else at the center, because it happened before I started seeing her, but after my last therapist dumped me.
I could tell it put doubt into her mind as to whether to believe me that I would keep myself safe. Could see her mentally wrestling with the thought, should I call 911 right now or not?

I told her I would try to get through the next week as best I could. If I drank too much or took too many pills in order to numb the pain to survive, then that was what I would do, and I wouldn't allow myself or anyone else to beat me up for resorting to such harmful measures. If it keeps me alive for another week, then as negative a coping skill as it may be, at least I coped in some manner and didn't end my life.

After seeing her, I headed to the dentist for my root canal. The procedure itself didn't hurt, but the after effects hurt like hell. Luckily they gave me a prescription for Vicodin, not knowing my desire to engage in some extreme self abuse. I now have Vicodin, Darvocet, tons of Valium, plenty of liquor and lots of razor blades at my disposal. I may not come through this next week unscathed, but I will hopefully at least make it through.


Blogger TexAss said...

I thought about you the other day. You watch So You Think You Can Dance, right? Did you see the "Addicted" performance? The song is called Gravity. It was about addiction per the choreographer, but that dance cut me to the core of my being because it is exactly how I feel being bipolar. Bipolar leads to addictions, so there you have it. If you haven't seen it, try and find it on YouTube. I watched it maybe 5 or 6 times and literally sobbed through it all.

I'm with you in your pain. Doc put me back on 2 anti-depressants last time. Oh well.

6:38 PM, July 14, 2009  
Blogger Sid said...

OMG...I LOVED that "Addicted" dance. It was one of the best they've ever done in any of the seasons. I did cry when I watched it because it touched me so deeply.

9:16 PM, July 14, 2009  

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