You know what, I’m not actually doing okay. I just feel okay in your office right now because coming here makes me feel like I’m in charge of my mental health. I immediately begin flailing for the things I’ve been doing lately to curb my symptoms so that you’ll be proud of me and make me feel like I’ve made progress. This is an act.
I’m either on a high or a low, and most days I experience both. My family members and friends feel estranged from me because I can’t control my temper when they trigger me, even if they don’t mean to. I get triggered all the time. But I can’t calmly explain to them why they’ve just hurt me because I’m being manic and it just makes them feel bad. So I act like a bitch and then they go away thinking I hate them. I don’t hate them. I hate myself.
I feel bad every time I do an act of “self-love.” Every. Time. “You could have been doing something productive. Your brother is mad at you because he wanted to hang out and you were selfish with your time. Your wife thinks she’s done something wrong and you didn’t even clear that up for her. Would’ve taken you 15 minutes to have a cup of tea with her and then explain that you feel like reading a book tonight instead of going out. But no, you couldn’t do that could you?” My inner monologue is a fucking bitch, but maybe she’s right. I honestly can’t tell the difference anymore.
What I said to Dr. Wampler: “Oh yeah, I’ve been making time to garden and read lately and I really feel like I’m finding myself again.”
Translation: “I’m doing everything people tell me to do and convincing myself I’m better for their sake because I know they want to see me happy and I don’t want to let them down.”
What I said to Dr. Wampler: “I’ve been seeing more of my friends and family lately and it makes me feel grounded.”
Translation: “I get guilted out of all of my alone time, but maybe next month I’ll be able to say no and stand up for myself.”
What I said to Dr. Wampler: “I’ve been eating more fruits and veggies!”
Translation: “I’m dissociating in a major scale to the point where I don’t recognize myself and I’m obsessed with losing weight so I might be able to look in the mirror and see myself again.”
The only thing I’m really doing to take care of myself mentally and make sure I don’t hallucinate is get enough sleep, and part of me is convinced that it’s just the depression and that’s not even real progress. But I can’t tell you any of this because you’ll want to take my medicine or switch it around and I’m so fucking afraid of that. I can’t function without prozac. I literally cannot function. If I wake up later than usual and take it late, I hallucinate for a half an hour while it kicks in. I don’t want you to take it, but how the fuck else are you supposed to help me?
How the fuck else are you supposed to help me?