Posts Tagged ‘therapy’
I need to find a more creative way of saying “things are not going well”. I will do that when things are doing better. As it happens, things are not going well. I do not know why.
I am due to start therapy soon, at long long last, which is positive and a step forward but it does make me quite nervous. If I’d've waited until I was “stable”, whatever that means, I may well have been under the Older People’s mental health services before starting therapy, so no time like the present. I’m worried about the fall-out from talking about everything. I don’t really have the time to become a full-on mentalist again, which I’m worried is going to happen. There’s a reason I block everything out – it’s so that I stay in one piece. I know that things have to get worse to get better and I think the therapy may also be partly diagnostic (as in, how much help is it going to do?) but still. Ew. I’m not very eloquent at the moment, the idea just feels ew.
I’m so behind with college work at the moment that I may as well write off this assignment and get ahead with the next, if that were possible. I feel like I’m some kind of vortex sucking the life, time, money and energy out of people to just destroy them. I don’t even think this is depression talking. It’s just rational, logical, cold-light-of-day thinking. Which is depressing in itself.
Don’t know how to end this post so, um. This is the end of the post.
I have some catching up to do with this blog and others, evidently!
So I returned to this blog (and the surprisingly awesome fact that I’d been nominated for TWIM awards!) feeling slightly apprehensive. I’m not sure what to write. I’m not sure where to begin or where to catch up. It’s hard to put so many feelings and experiences and such into words, and do them the justice they deserve, more to the point. I will have a stab at it anyway.
I have recently been transferred from CAMHS to the adult mental health services (CMHT). And what an 80lb bucket of pure joy that has been. Perhaps it is “attachment issues” but I really, really did not want to leave CAMHS. Apparently this was observed by my therapist too, who felt that by counter-transference, he was also anxious about our sessions ending. As it happens, we both swiftly exited my last ever CAMHS session before we both got too emotional. Which may seem unprofessional or “weird”, but I think it was important. For me, at least, who struggles to accept human emotions, it was important that it ended in an appropiately human way. I had already been having a few appointment at the CMHT, so the transistion was as smooth as it was going to be. Here endeth an era.
Feeling somewhat unprepared for my journey into “adult” mentalism, I made my way to the building inwhich the CMHT was housed. A whole … few metres? away from the building where CAMHS is. It’s still painful to walk past and look up at the windows of the therapy rooms. As mentioned, I’d already met my new psychiatrist, who we will call Dr C. I don’t know what to make of Dr C at the moment. Trying to discuss my thoughts and views is about as useful as “challenging a centipede to an arse-kicking contest”. Which also goes for my care co-ordinator and crisis team. I will also be seeing a new psychologist when my name comes up on the waiting list for some solution-focused therapy/CBT/stick-a-plaster-on-it-and-grow-up therapy.
My CMHT is very “man up, suck it up and deal with it” orientated, which is apparently the best way to treat a person with a diagnosis of borderline personality disorder. Trying to mention my trauma history, disordered eating or.. anything that isn’t BPD related is met with a blank, disapproving stare. Maybe this is the best way of dealing with BPD, but I deeply miss the more compassionate way CAMHS worked. It’s not that I expect sympathy and tears wherever I go because of my history, but.. well I know what I mean. In hospital earlier this year, my individual therapy work was psychodynamic psychotherapy, which worked for me. This is what has been reccomended for me, but will this happen with the adult services? Not likely. I am beginning to sense the frustration of other people with the therapy services provided by the NHS. I have contact a charity about some counselling regarding the trauma issues, which will no doubt vex my team.
As you can tell, I am really struggling to deal with all this change and the services that are being offered. Although obviously when I say this, I am told (repeatedly) about how it is a symptom of BPD and how I need to learn to just deal with it.
My current goal is to keep myself as safe as possible, to see if there is any possibility of going into crisis housing. Which gives my team the impression that I do not need any help because I’ve “got over myself” and stopped attempting suicide, my most recent attempt being less than a week ago.
Any advice in navigating the adult mental health services is greatly appreciated!
In other news, I have begun college, studying a qualification in performing arts! I have found I love dance, although clomping around like a rather short, stocky elephant sometimes makes me feel less than fabulous about myself. I have not yet started up my voluntary work again but I hope to start in the New Year if I am sane enough to do it. Obviously I am, because I just need to man up, suck it up and deal…
I’ve tried typing out this entry multiple times, but I’m too ashamed. I’m too ashamed to write because of my disability.
It is a fact. It will take years to reach some stability. I will need support for my mental health condition and for day to day life for a long time. My life feels written off already, because of the effect depression, BPD and PTSD has on my life. Because of the effect my disability has on my life.
I’m a write-off at 16.
I should be sleeeeping. Although I’ve slept all day, apart from music tutoring and CAMHS, so I shouldn’t be surprised that I’m not tired.
EastEnders are currently running a storyline focusing on the character Ronnie’s history of sexual abuse by her father. Not so great for my state of mind (see previous posts), but I will be writing a post about the portrayal of abuse in the media fairly soon. When it won’t send me crazy.
Met with my therapist and psychiatrist today, we were talking about my transistion to the CMHT. Deep joy. I said I will be printing off guidelines and such to take to the “getting to know you” meeting with my new psych and therapist, so that they know I know what I’m entitled to by way of support. They laughed. I don’t know why, I’m actually not joking.
Apparently the maximum amount of therapy you get with our CMHT is 15 sessions. I actually laughed at that. I wish 15 sessions were enough for me. It’s taken me a year just to raise the issue of another experience of abuse. 15 sessions is usually around when I stop wanting to knock them out and start using actual words in the session. I’ve heard loads of bad reports about adult mental health services, so I pretty much hate them already. Apparently the psychiatrist that’s the head of the team I’ll be under is very attractive. I may not tell him all about my crazies, just incase.
I have a hard few months coming up. Leaving CAMHS, starting college, etc.
In other news, my antidepressants have been upped because I’m “officially” depressed again. Thanks a lot, goodnight.
I’m really tempted to just boycott the whole of idea of going to the CMHT. Turning up for a few sessions and then… not go. I’m not going to even put myself in the position of maybe getting let down. If they’re anything like the psychiatric unit doctors were like, I’ll just kick something over and walk out.
I wonder if they’re expecting somebody quiet and relatively unaware of mental health services… they’re in for a shock, aren’t they?
Mental health and being aware of your mental health is a strange thing. When you think you’re fine, everybody says you’re not. When you don’t think you’re fine, everybody says you are.
Things are still not great. I’ve been feeling low enough to get in the way of normal daily life today and had three panic attacks out the blue. I hadn’t had any problems with anxiety for quite a while. My sleeping pattern is, well… not patterned, either. It’s taking me ages to get to sleep and hardly any time to wake up again. Overdosing sounds quite tempting. I’ve been through the cupboards already, on the off chance that someone might’ve left my latest meds “hidden” before putting them in the safe. I don’t know why. I don’t want to die, I don’t want to live, I don’t know what I want. I just don’t want. What I don’t want, I don’t know. (still with me, here?)
But then I hear my therapist’s words, that I’m attributing normal feelings and actions to my “mental illness”. And that I need to get out more. And then my family keep saying I’m just hormonal.
So maybe I am. Maybe I am overreacting and I’m just being a teenager/just hormonal/just being normal. I am going out, for goodness’ sake. I am out every day. I’m hardly seeing my family, I am out so much. Next week, I’ll be out non-stop even more. Friend’s houses, random fields, theme parks, going out for dinner, etc. etc. etc. etc. etc.
But when my anxiety is bad and I feel so low I can hardly get out of bed, I don’t want to be out 24/7. Then I’ll maybe reduce my socialising, like I did last week, then get told that the reason I’m depressed is that I’m not going out enough. So I keep going out, despite feeling awful and going into panic attacks and being exhausted from hardly any sleep and I’m running myself into the ground.
But I’m fine. I really am, I’m just overreacting. This is fine. Nobody is listening anyway.
Yeah. I feel strangely rebellious for writing this entry, but “it’s my blog and I’ll be controversial if I want to” ™
Today was therapy and as usual, I had trouble gathering my thoughts for what to talk about in my session. What we talked about varied a lot, but it was mentioned that they are very “aware” of the danger of me attributing everything I think and feel to having a mental health problem.
Which is a fair enough statement. But where do I draw the line? How do I know when it’s “just being a teenager” and when I’m struggling? I feel tired (drained, more like), I’m struggling to wash and dress myself, actively avoiding people and dying sounds just fine to me. It sounds so fine, in fact, that I think I know how I’ll do it.
That could be just being a teenager. That could be a sign that things are starting to slip again. And what does that mean? Will I be carted off to hospital, as my Mum always says? Not likely, I’m never setting foot into a psychiatric unit again, voluntarily at least. Does that mean I’m just being a teenager? When I’m struggling to sleep because of the flashbacks and imagining myself dying, is that being a teenager? Where does being a teenager end and danger begin? Is there even a line?
I really wish I had some contact with others going through this kind of thing. I don’t know what’s normal and what isn’t, and yes, I’m not eager to talk to the CAMHS team because. Because I’m meant to be better. Apparently I don’t even have PTSD. So why are the flashbacks and nightmares slowly destroying my life and friendships? I’m thinking of talking to a helpline or support group, but I don’t know if I’m old enough. Probably not. Do I even have a problem? Probably not.
I don’t really know what I’m doing or thinking. I’m probably just overreacting to the comments. Or am I attributing a “normal” teenage reaction to something else?
Otherwise known as bulimia nervosa.
“Chaos” sounds about right. My eating is chaotic, my life is chaotic. According to psychodynamic lingo, you could say I’m “internalising” anger at the moment. I’m not going to go into why here. I should go into it in therapy, but since my suicide attempt, my mental health team don’t have a high opinion of my mum anyway. To cut a long story short, in the few days before I attempted, I was under a lot of stress at home and my mum was. Well. Yeah. So. And if they know that I’m finding it difficult (read: impossible) to talk about how I’m feeling at home and the thoughts/ideas I’m getting because of it, they will start talking about going inpatient again to “keep me safe” and blah blah blah.
I’m in the process of changing from mirtazapine to citalopram, so the “break” between meds might be making the thoughts worse. And by “thoughts”, I mean considering suicide.
So no, I don’t really have anything fascinating to write at the moment. Things are just quite difficult. It would be good if I could see my therapist more often when I’m feeling like this, and I requested it, but I’m only allowed one session a week. No fault of my therapist – it’s just the NHS “prescription”, I’m guessing. I’m under the adult crisis team (they take on people from 16), but they operate between 9-5, which is when I can ring CAMHS anyway. So I can either have my mental breakdown in normal office hours or just… deal with it.
So I’m dealing with it.
Therapy tommorow, which I’m guessing will be the same as always: 45 minutes of building myself up to talking, then when I’m ready to, the session is over for the next 7-9 days.
I’m stuck. And I’m tired. And I want out.