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mousmeBut I won't. At least, not tonight.
Finished the practically interminable Moby Dick this morning. Took my courage into both hands (is that even an English saying?) and read the last seventy-odd pages. I'm glad it's over. The ending was confusing. In case anyone was wondering, Ahab dies and the whales lives. I was just a little confused about *how* it all happened. I might have to re-read those five pages (yes, folks, 1% of the book has the whale in it) and try to figure it all out again.
On a random note: why do automated phone systems ALWAYS use the Four Seasons in the background? They had it at Bell Mobility, and at this place I called on Thursday (or was it Friday). Anyway. Vivaldi must be spinning in his grave.
Any of you wondering why I've been uncharacteristically (?) silent lately, LJ-wise in any event, it's that I'm kind of struggling with a pretty severe bout of depression. Not handling things well at all. Putting off stuff that shouldn't be put off (work, cleaning, food, etc.), lying about it to my parents because I can't take their badgering me about it, and lying to myself about how serious this is getting.
Have had one or two minor epiphanies since Friday, but I'm not sure if they're actually helping. Saw a psychologist on Friday, the second time I'd met him and the first time we had a regular session, and found that I've become physically incapable of telling people what's really going on in my head. It was actually quite scary. I can hint that things are bad, but every time I do I feel compelled to reassure the person that "it's not that bad."
I can be thinking the worst things in the world (I have a visual mind, so it gets pretty graphic in there) and yet make a joke or a sarcastic remark or a wry face to "take the edge off" what I'm saying. So I can blithely tell the person "Yeah, I've sometimes thought about suicide, on those days when my brain is actively trying to kill me," and then give them a quirky half smile and laugh, as though I was discussing a particularly disturbing news report. It's not really about me. I'm not really going through all this. It's someone else, I swear it. See? I'm normal! I'm using irony, which means I'm normal, right?
*sigh*
The worst part is, I wanted to tell him. I want to tell Dr. Steiner too, when I see him. I just can't. My tongue cleaves to the roof of my mouth until I come out with something flippant instead.
It's not fair. I don't want to be obsessed with death, my own especially. I don't want to have random thoughts pop into my head like: "I wish I had anything but this. I'd rather be quadriplegic than have to deal with this for one more day. I'd rather have cancer, have a limb amputated, anything but this."
I'm just tired of this. I'm tired of pretending to be functional, but I'm tired of not being functional too. It's not like I want to have someone say: "Great, you're non-functional. Here are some meds, I'm removing the hook, you can be on disability now." I want to be normal, godammit! I don't want to feel like shit all the time. I don't want this. I don't.
I read a book this weekend called The Last Taboo by Scott Simmie about mental health care in Canada, which is actually a very good overview of mental illness. He's a reporter for the Toronto Star, and has Bipolar Affective Disorder (same as me, except I'm Type II and he's Type I). He had a psychotic break a few years ago when he was on a mission in Chechnya and then moved to China where it got worse. The book itself is pretty basic information-wise, but it had a few passages in it which resonated with me.
One in particular caught my eye, but surprisingly enough I didn't recognise myself in it. It did, however, remind me of someone who was once very close to me. Actually, it didn't so much remind me of him as make me think the authors had been spying on him for a few months or years. It certainly might explain a lot.
Borderline Personality Disorder
People with this label frequently have volatile mood swings, persistent difficulties with interpersonal relationships, and an unstable sense of who they are. They're often frantic in their efforts to prevent abandonment in a relationship, whether that abandonment is real or imagined. An example might be the woman (or man) who becomes frenzied when their partner can't be reached by phone. Most of us would simply call later; a person with borderline personality disorder might leave fifteen panicked messages, travel across town to see if they can locate their partner, or maybe hurl the phone across the room in a disproportionate burst of anger.
(...)
To receive a diagnosis of borderline personality disorder, you'll have to satisfy five of the following criteria:
(...)
In other words, it's been a very very active time in Phnee's brain, which means not a whole lot got done on the outside.
I'm going to go to bed now. Might get some orange juice first. Have been uncharacteristically thirsty lately.
Finished the practically interminable Moby Dick this morning. Took my courage into both hands (is that even an English saying?) and read the last seventy-odd pages. I'm glad it's over. The ending was confusing. In case anyone was wondering, Ahab dies and the whales lives. I was just a little confused about *how* it all happened. I might have to re-read those five pages (yes, folks, 1% of the book has the whale in it) and try to figure it all out again.
On a random note: why do automated phone systems ALWAYS use the Four Seasons in the background? They had it at Bell Mobility, and at this place I called on Thursday (or was it Friday). Anyway. Vivaldi must be spinning in his grave.
Any of you wondering why I've been uncharacteristically (?) silent lately, LJ-wise in any event, it's that I'm kind of struggling with a pretty severe bout of depression. Not handling things well at all. Putting off stuff that shouldn't be put off (work, cleaning, food, etc.), lying about it to my parents because I can't take their badgering me about it, and lying to myself about how serious this is getting.
Have had one or two minor epiphanies since Friday, but I'm not sure if they're actually helping. Saw a psychologist on Friday, the second time I'd met him and the first time we had a regular session, and found that I've become physically incapable of telling people what's really going on in my head. It was actually quite scary. I can hint that things are bad, but every time I do I feel compelled to reassure the person that "it's not that bad."
I can be thinking the worst things in the world (I have a visual mind, so it gets pretty graphic in there) and yet make a joke or a sarcastic remark or a wry face to "take the edge off" what I'm saying. So I can blithely tell the person "Yeah, I've sometimes thought about suicide, on those days when my brain is actively trying to kill me," and then give them a quirky half smile and laugh, as though I was discussing a particularly disturbing news report. It's not really about me. I'm not really going through all this. It's someone else, I swear it. See? I'm normal! I'm using irony, which means I'm normal, right?
*sigh*
The worst part is, I wanted to tell him. I want to tell Dr. Steiner too, when I see him. I just can't. My tongue cleaves to the roof of my mouth until I come out with something flippant instead.
It's not fair. I don't want to be obsessed with death, my own especially. I don't want to have random thoughts pop into my head like: "I wish I had anything but this. I'd rather be quadriplegic than have to deal with this for one more day. I'd rather have cancer, have a limb amputated, anything but this."
I'm just tired of this. I'm tired of pretending to be functional, but I'm tired of not being functional too. It's not like I want to have someone say: "Great, you're non-functional. Here are some meds, I'm removing the hook, you can be on disability now." I want to be normal, godammit! I don't want to feel like shit all the time. I don't want this. I don't.
I read a book this weekend called The Last Taboo by Scott Simmie about mental health care in Canada, which is actually a very good overview of mental illness. He's a reporter for the Toronto Star, and has Bipolar Affective Disorder (same as me, except I'm Type II and he's Type I). He had a psychotic break a few years ago when he was on a mission in Chechnya and then moved to China where it got worse. The book itself is pretty basic information-wise, but it had a few passages in it which resonated with me.
One in particular caught my eye, but surprisingly enough I didn't recognise myself in it. It did, however, remind me of someone who was once very close to me. Actually, it didn't so much remind me of him as make me think the authors had been spying on him for a few months or years. It certainly might explain a lot.
Borderline Personality Disorder
People with this label frequently have volatile mood swings, persistent difficulties with interpersonal relationships, and an unstable sense of who they are. They're often frantic in their efforts to prevent abandonment in a relationship, whether that abandonment is real or imagined. An example might be the woman (or man) who becomes frenzied when their partner can't be reached by phone. Most of us would simply call later; a person with borderline personality disorder might leave fifteen panicked messages, travel across town to see if they can locate their partner, or maybe hurl the phone across the room in a disproportionate burst of anger.
(...)
To receive a diagnosis of borderline personality disorder, you'll have to satisfy five of the following criteria:
• You have a pattern of suicidal behaviour, which could include making threats of suicide or repeatedly harming or mutilating yourself. (Phnee's note: that's why 90% of self-injurers get misdiagnosed as having BPD, when it's usually not the case)
• Your personal relationships tend to be both intense and unstable. You alternate, sometimes frequently, between thinking you're with the perfect partner and thinking you can't stand them.
• You'll go to extremes to avoid being abandones. This potential abandonment can be real, or —as the phone example illustrates— imagined.
• You feel "empty" for extended periods much of the time.
• You've got an explosive temper that you can't seem to control. Little things can cause you to explode in a rage or even engage in physical fighting.
• Your mood is frequently unstable for brief and intense periods. You may feel overwhelmingly anxious, sad, or irritable —feelings that can last anywhere from a few hours to a few days. (Phnee's note: the emphasis here is on *overwhelming*. This doesn't mean that if you have a PMS day you've got BPD)
• You don't have a good sense of who you are. Your self-image is unstable and can change rapidly. (Phnee's note: Buh?)
• You can be very impulsive in ways that are damaging to yourself. For example you might go on an eating or drinking binge, drive your car recklessly, decide to have sexual relations with a stranger.
(...)
In other words, it's been a very very active time in Phnee's brain, which means not a whole lot got done on the outside.
I'm going to go to bed now. Might get some orange juice first. Have been uncharacteristically thirsty lately.
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no subject
Date: 2003-10-12 11:56 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-10-13 01:57 am (UTC)That's what I do as well, make a joke, tell them it's not as bad as it is, or, worse yet, that it's fine. It's like I'm aftaid that if they actually find out what's going on in my head, they'll lock away in a padded room somewhere...
no subject
Date: 2003-10-13 07:35 am (UTC)I'm not even afraid of that. It would be much simpler if I could say "I don't want to tell you because I'm afraid you'll lock me up."
I'm not sure what I'm afraid of. I think I'm afraid that I'm (once again) going to be judged —and found wanting...
no subject
Date: 2003-10-13 09:27 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-10-13 02:32 pm (UTC)I don't have to worry about that. I've been told *that* for as long as I can remember.
See, I've been told that for as long as I can remember too, and so my response was to work as hard as I can so it would never happen again. I never wanted to hurt as much as I did when I was told "That's not good enough." So it's a constant battle for the approval of others in my case. I don't know any other way to behave. :/
no subject
Date: 2003-10-13 06:56 am (UTC)**hugs to you**
no subject
Date: 2003-10-13 09:30 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-10-13 02:29 pm (UTC)I want it to stop, even if I don't know what "it" is.
*hugs back*
no subject
Date: 2003-10-13 09:24 am (UTC)this happens ALL THE TIME with me. I'll also get all psyched up to have a session with my counselor and feel like I'm going to tell her everything she needs to know, and then I get in there and I present a happy face and make her think I'm fine like I really shouldn't even be there. It's ridiculous.
On another note, I always saw myself in borderline personality disorder traits, but I was actually diagnosed with bipolar disorder (type II). Go figure.
no subject
Date: 2003-10-13 05:02 pm (UTC)Anyhoo...
I want to be normal, godammit!
Why in God's name would you want to be normal? Normal is dead boring if you ask me. And aside from that, normalcy is rather like Nirvana - everyone's heard of it, but no-one's ever been there and come back to tell the tale.
Okay, enough being flippant. This is a serious topic and I'm not helping by trying to crack jokes. Unfortunately, its my response to anyone but me being upset (when I'm upset the entire world is about to end dammit!).
*hugs Phnee tightly*
Sweetie, I so badly wish I could help beyond contrite words of comfort/advice. But, unfortunately, I'm not qualified to do more than test your blood. My sister would probably be of more help, but she's technically not qualified to shrink heads (ie, she isn't licensed). Not that I'd let her near you - you're mine dammit and I'm not sharing! *growls playfully at everyone else*
Anyway, I have a suggestion. You seem to have less of a hard time writing what you're feeling down - have you ever thought of printing out your LJ entries and taking them to your sessions? Or maybe just writing them down on a notepad as they happen (so they don't get caught up in other stuff). Its a little unorthodox probably, but if it gets the message across to your therapist that you're in a bad way then its definitely a going to help.
Anyway, aside from that bit of advice I've got nothing especially constructive to offer. Well, aside from the selfish assertion that if you managed to succeed in killing yourself I'd miss you horribly.
*schnoogle*
Hang in there honey - I can't guarantee that tomorrow'll be any better, but it'll be a new day and that's better than a kick in the head. Well, only slightly, but I'm also not a morning person at the best of times.
Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go change the TV channel. *shudder* Hilary Duff *shudder*
Random notes
Date: 2003-10-13 08:04 pm (UTC)Anyhow, as you're no doubt aware, life isn't fair. And the grass is always greener on the other side. I just hope you feel better soon.
Re: Random notes
Date: 2003-10-13 08:11 pm (UTC)I'm confused by your second paragraph. No, life isn't fair. But the grass is greener on the other side? What's that about? I didn't express a desire to live someone else's life. Are you saying that life without mental health problems is something to which I shouldn't aspire? Help me out, here, I'm perplexed.
Re: Random notes
Date: 2003-10-14 04:11 pm (UTC)