first, an update on the meds situation. i got a call from one of the therapists at the MHC regarding my grievance on friday. she talked to the p-nurse, who had only been told i was closing my case, but was not aware i was out of my meds. as i been out for 3dys & so far hadn’t croaked, & she was working in another agency on friday, tomorrow (monday) she is going to call me when she is back in the office & go from there. i’m still angry & concerned about this issue though, but i’m waiting to see what comes of this before i take any further action. specifically, i’m waiting to find out how much of what happened was due to actual clinic policy & how much was just ignorant receptionist bullshit thinking she knows something about how the mentally ill should be treated. maybe my master’s degree & years of experience with mentall ill clients doesn’t qualify me to have an opinion, but i’m pretty sure a receptionist who probably doesn’t have much more than a high school diploma isn’t qualified to make such decisions, especially decisions regarding whether or not someone actually needs medication. but maybe that’s just my crazy talking. bitch.
so anyway… there are some things going on around the house, that seem to highlight my mental/emotion dysfunction. when i first started seeing my current therapist, she mentioned they would be considering me for a diagnosis of Borderline Personality Disorder. i think today is a prime example of why that fits so well.
while i was away at college my father’s now ex-gf had converted my bedroom to storage. it’s also worth mentioning here the water heater is in my room. so fast forward to this year. i move home with the expectation of cleaning out the room to use again. alas, this is a tiny place & for all the junk that was moved into the room, new junk streamed in to take it’s place so there is nowhere to clean the old stuff out to. while working out the details of the situation, the water heater died. after digging through the junk to find the problem with the water heater, it was discovered it had been leaking for some time & had spread out through the room, so now everything floor level, including the floor, had molded & the water heater had finally just burned out. i’m allergic to mold & have had some very serious health problems related to living/working with it, so i was gone when they drug stuff out & replaced the water heater. the mold itself wasn’t really cleaned up, the room has just remained shut off. so i’m still sleeping on the couch.
this week, my aunt bought her son a new bed & gave daddy the old, but still really nice & comfy looking, twin mattress & boxsprings, & frame for me. the thought of having an actual bed to sleep in is tantalizing, but the idea of having to clean out that room is horrifying & exhausting. a lot of what is in there will just need to be thrown away, & what is good will have to find a place. the walls will have to be cleaned & the flooring pulled up to get it clean & dry underneath. this will be a good chance to lay down some new tile in there, which will be nice. i wanted to paint the walls in there anyway, so they won’t really be a big issue because i would have had to clean the anyway. just a little extra work to getting them clean & letting them dry, then base coat them with killz & paint over that. it’ll be fun, like an adventure. i do enjoy painting. (i like doing all the proper prep work & taking my time to do a sharp job, then standing back & admiring how much better my work looks than other people who have painted. petty sure, but it makes me happy.) but i digress.
the point of all this, is that the thoughts that have been tickling my brain since the bed showed up were solidified today when daddy announced he would be cleaning out the room on tuesday. no, not the “omg this means doing work” thoughts (it’s a very small room), the other ones. the ones who keep running around in a panic shouting about how this means daddy hates me. he wants me out of the way. he wants to lock me away in that room so he doesn’t have to deal with me anymore. why does everything i feel come down to people hating me? can it not simply be, that he knows (because i told him the other day) the mattresses can’t sit out in the carport till he gets around to it. the carport is covered but not enclosed. they are going to survive the winter out there. can’t it be because he loves me & doesn’t want me to have to keep sleeping on the couch, keeping my clothes in a suitcase? why does my mind not focus on all the loving reasons he could be doing this? why does it immediately go into panic mode because this means he hates me & doesn’t want me around?
it goes back to a convo i had with my therapist about how it is hard for me to build new relationships, because i just don’t “connect” with people. for me, identifying someone as a friend is a matter of logic more than emotion. i don’t generally feel like someone is my friend. i feel like ppl hate me & i’m just in the way. ppl want me to come visit & when i do, i spend the entire time fighting this overwhelming feeling they wish i would leave. i have no idea what it means to be normal, or how a normal person visits. i don’t like having company myself. i really do like keeping to msyelf & doing my own thing. i prefer my friends online. i like the ocassional pre-arranged visit, because it gives me time to mentally prepare to entertain ppl. though, i’ve never minded my close friends coming over as we can hang out without me having to worry about entertaining them. but in general, my home is my fortress of solitude. ppl exhaust me, easy to understand given how much panic & anxiety being around them causes me, so home is the place where i don’t have to worry.
but all in all, this makes it hard to make friends or even be a friend. it’s hard for most ppl to develop those bonds with someone who doesn’t seem to have much interest in talking to you or hanging out with you:~/ i try, but i don’t like talking on the phone, & otherwise have trouble finding my balance in how often to visit. i either want to be over there all the time or never. i don’t have any local friends now, but i’m trying to get my friends on a monthly rotation, so i’m being social on at least a monthly basis. it’s healthy for me.
when i think about why i am the way i am, a lot of it is genetic. my mother’s side of the family is rife with mental illness, particularly bipolar & depression. which includes suicides, abuse, & violence, oh & substance abuse. can’t forget that. growing up i alternated between being mommy’s beloved princes & being her favorite target. maybe it was because i was the most sensitive, though most likely it is because of the secrets i didn’t learn until adulthood. i represented a great disappointment in my mother’s life. when she was in a mood, she would call me names, tell me how ugly & lazy & stupid i was, tell me how she wished she had never had children, & that she wished it would die. she did the hitting & throwing stuff thing, too, but you can imagine that never hurt quite as much as the verbal abuse. when i think about all that, it is easy to see why i don’t feel like a person anyone could want or love.
How standard is this practice? Am I overreacting? Did I bring this on myself & therefore deserve to have the meds pulled out from under me?
Nothing Is Alone 