Why I Should Be on Meds…
There are days that happen, thankfully not super frequently, where I find myself made of 50 fists and non-stop rage. Today is one of those days. There is no valid or reasonable reason for them – they just sort of creep up on me compliments of self-sabotage that I’ve yet to break myself of and little things getting blown out of proportion while I tenaciously pour all my energies into trying to stay sane and kindly. When all your energy is already going to that, it’s incredibly difficult to apply what seems like little-to-no-energy shaking off things.
‘Why don’t you get help?’ some might ask… and it’s a good question! I started the ball rolling on that last year, only for all my paperwork to get lost and me to get called a liar repeatedly. I’ve actually been on the hook waiting to hear back from a particular department for months, to the point where my doctor suggests I should call them instead. I agree, but (and this is a huge but) phones are one of my bigger anxiety triggers… and I’m so stressed that the thought of picking up a phone puts me near the brink of tears and vomiting. And honestly, I feel justified in this, considering the last time I worked with this department, they wanted to do phone appointments in spite of the fact I made it clear that this was a problem for me (and then apparently, they claimed I missed appointments too? the hell…).
To make things worse, peoples’ well-intentioned kindnesses are like acid to me. It burns, it tells me I’m a failure, and frankly, I’d rather never talk to someone again than have a knee-jerk pity-huggle be issued at me. Oh sure, I know that they’re not all knee-jerk, and that I’m pretty sure most of my friends understand that if I’m actually mentioning how bad my state of play is that it is bad and that they just want to show they care. And because I am so vehement about being left alone to sort myself out, when I do need someone, people can’t read my mind and know that I actually need and want their affection then. I could tell them, sure, but then it would completely invalidate it and push me into that very narrow and dark crevice of my soul where I think about cutting or throwing myself off of a building. I know, needing people to be mind readers… doesn’t work so well. But then, neither does getting called a liar when trying to actually get stuff sorted out, heh. As one of my best friends said repeatedly of me, and I agree – while I might not ever want to be on drugs (I generally don’t, especially as I used to be a pill popper in high school), my problems are severe to a degree that I kind of need something to get me off the ceiling so my baseline is healthy enough to actually address issues. So hopefully, I’ll be able to come down enough to make a call without puking or sobbing, and try to get that boulder rolling again… hopefully!
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