![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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.
