Been a long while. I self-censor. Sometimes the shame dictates my actions, tell me to stop wallowing, stop writing, you have nothing new to write, nothing to offer, such harsh judgments. I know, or believe, that I judge myself so nastily as a way to ward off others' potential mean judgments, what I expect from others anyhow. It makes sense to me, a sort of survival mechanism if I am the one who can hurt me most, ipso facto,no one can hurt me, I become impervious to their meanness, except that I don't. Just another in the long line of self-delusion.
I met with the psychiatrist last week, I was terrified, my anxiety just kept building to the extent that by the time I was just walking into the building where his office is, I was shaking then tears ensued. I sat in his office, then just cried. He asked what the tears were about, I wasn't really sure, expect that I was afraid of what would happen, afraid he would decry me as False, faker, fraud. He knows people I know as well as I do, so in part there was a nice (surprising) sense of camaraderie that i have not felt in a very long time. Someone who knew what we were all up against, someone who knew the culture, the language (although Mr Mcluhan said they were one and the same), the acronyms, someone who could read between the lines of my stories. It's good to feel understood, even though there exists a concomitant discomfort with someone understanding so well, seeing me so clearly. Won't be able to hide much from this one.
I cannot fathom that there exist people who wake up in the morning feeling good, who want to get out of bed, people who feel happy, it' beyond my scope - I just don't believe it. I think it's part of my belief that there is nothing wrong with me - except that there is something wrong with me.
well the Doc asked me to come back because after 2 hrs straight talking, he still hadn't finished his VAC assessment. He said he had about 20 more questions to ask, I said why not email them to me, he looked at me and said "No, I want you to come back." I replied that there were other people who needed his time more than me, people who needed (aka deserved) his help more. He said "You deserve to come back, I wouldn't ask if you didn't". It's difficult to believe, I just don't understand what has happened to me, and yet I do in an academic from a distance/dissociative sense. So tomorrow I'm off to Vancouver once again. It feels very luxurious, event decadent, to have someone listen and really get it. But you see, he was in Rwanda, he disclosed his humanity to me, and it released many inhibitions. It is good to be seen, very vulnerable position though it might be, it is good.
Take care everyone.
Post from 2011 - Who am I if I'm not suicidal? What is life like? Where am I uncomfortable because I'm not suicidal? It feels anxiously flat, a nervous nothingness So I feel ...
10 months ago