I will not go quietly

Weebie died a little over a week ago. Considering my mental state, I haven't had the ability to deal with it much. It is my fault; I should have taken her in to be looked at instead of assuming she would need surgery and trying to get a little more weight on her. No matter how I try, I still feel as if I fucked up.

It's because I did.

Today I had an appointment with a psychiatrist because my gyn wanted me to have someone overseeing my Buspar dosing, and christ, did I make a bad call there. I chose to go see the same psychiatrist Harry has used because she managed his epilepsy so well.

So much for that.

She did not listen to a word I said, and raged at me that I am not a doctor (well, I didn't say, I did not go to trade school, I have an academic degree, but, umm, yes, I am), I know nothing about the brain (that'd be *two* wrong, for those playing at home), and...let's just wrap it up with 'and so forth'. I spent more time hearing about what a worthless piece of shit I am than talking about what brought me there. And then I left.

I can only assume she feels that I have no business helping Harry, but whatever.

I am tired now. I have to start looking for another psychiatrist tomorrow. The lesson I am learning from this is that there are a lot of fucktard MDs out there with god complexes. And that, in the end, no one really cares unless you agree with them completely, prostrate yourself before them, and take whatever they tell you without question. And after lambasting me for over forty-five minutes (I stayed largely quiet), her 'wrap-up' was to tell me how smart and beautiful I am, and how if I would listen to her, I could accomplish so much; I told her that sounded like hollow, narcissistic love-bombing, and to please just can it.

Probably I am not her favourite patient.

I may be best off just winging this one, like I do with everything else.

Just don't ever fall for the lies. That's the best advice I can give you. Don't ever listen to someone who says your worth as a human being rests entirely on whether you unquestioningly will drink whatever Kool-Aid they are peddling. Don't ever be that desperate for help or companionship, regardless of what you think it is costing you. The 'sunk cost effect' is real, and it works. Just like love-bombing.

That's all I have.




- Posted using Speak-n-Blog from my Fisher-Price Chatter Pull Telephone

And so it goes.

Meg is away, playing poker and doing fun things; I can no longer accompany her because of my current (precarious) financial situation, one which is not being helped in the least by the panic attacks I am having throughout every day any more.

I have an appointment to be screened for PTSD later in the month; I suppose then I will get stronger medication, I do not know. Probably nothing will change. I am trying to not become a bitter recluse, really no-one understands how hard I am trying, and in a way, my months in a semi-dissociative haze, when I was denying everything, were easier. I have always felt that my dissociations, from extreme compartmentalisation to full-out 'non-presence' (which has only happened a few times in my life) were more of a blessing than anything else, and for that reason, I have no need or desire to discuss, dissect, or 'cure' something which I do not feel to be broken.

And for the record, I'm a firm sceptic with regards to DID, I actually think it is an iatrogenic pseudo-disorder stemming from possibly a predisposition to dissociate accompanied by a desire to please and a tendency towards the fanciful and dramatic...on both the part of the pt as well as the therapist. Just my two cents.

There is not much exciting right now; it is hard to sell oneself as spectacular when one is actually feeling Quite Worthless. I also have a sneaking suspicion that my case legally was listed as my declining to prosecute; I base this on an unusual comment from the Advocate to whom I had been assigned, but there seems to be nothing I can do about it now. Nor, really, do I care to. I am tired of fighting.

I am trying to keep to a normal sleep/wake schedule, even though my mind just does not want to cooperate most days. I figure that the more I force normal behaviour and do not engage in self-indulgent stupidities, the sooner my brain will catch on that I do not give a fuck what it thinks, so it can stop having crying jags, flashbacks, emotional upheavals, and making up fake sounds and smells all the faster.

I do believe that things will be better after I change a little more about my life (like my job). I want so desperately to be contributive to things again...that alone will make things better.

I haven't felt very friendly towards some of the old group of friends, so I have been keeping to myself a lot. I don't anticipate this changing because, away from a certain few, I realise that I never much cared for them anyway.

It is time to try to sleep. I am desperately craving thus awesome chicken sauté from a local Turkish restaurant, but I am not up to taking myself. At least not right now; thinking about doing it is exhausting, and I don't know how to stop that feeling. Maybe the PTSD-specialist psychiatrist will have some drug for that, too. I dropped the counsellor I was seeing; in between not listening to me (I don't need this horseshit 'you aren't to blame' PC fuckery when all substantive evidence, including the Ass't DA's own words, spells out pretty clearly that I am the ONLY one upon whom blame rests in this case), she dealt fabulous advice (such as 'be a bitch!') which I found remarkably unhelpful. But the fact is, this isn't her problem; it is my problem, and I am a fool to look to anyone to change things for me.

Anyway...good-night; I will just leave with an archaic thought from Locard, whom no-one appears to read any longer anyway. I think we are all the poorer for it, but...yes; there's that fag talk we talked about, Dr. Lexus.

Sigh.


'Physical evidence cannot be wrong, it cannot perjure itself, it cannot be wholly absent. Only human failure to find it, study and understand it, can diminish its value.'




- Posted using SomeBlogApp that I don't know how to use. o_O