Today is the day I visit the doctors after a month of terrible mood swings and self harm. I am not seeing my regular doctor as he is away for two weeks. I am not looking forward to going. I don’t like seeing new doctors I don’t know how they are going to react or what they are going to say. I feel I should save the self harming and tell my regular doctor next time. Or maybe I should just be honest with this doctor.
I did some research, I think what I’m scared of is that they will section me and I will have to explain to my family what has happened in the worst possible way. I want to tell them on my own terms.
I’m in bed, eating leftover pizza from yesterday. I didn’t tell my parents I had ordered pizza because my mum always makes a comment about how fat I will be, or am. She never really specifies. Earlier in the week the medical center called my house, this was unfortunate as they left a message asking me to call back. I didn’t realise they had rang until my mother rang me at 8PM to ask why the doctors surgery was calling me. I made up an excuse about smear tests. She seemed satisfied with that response and moved on to talk about something else. This was self harm day, maybe the frustration of almost getting caught, the stress of the day or just that I was so angry at myself for being an idiot, or maybe I just wanted to feel a different kind of pain. Focus on something else that wasn’t the nothingness of my brain and feelings. The next day at work I frantically called the doctors back, I rang 24 times before I got through to them. They were pandering to me “what is your name? What did the message say?” I was getting frustrated i just wanted to know why they had called and jepordised my confidentiality. It turned out they had moved my appointment to 2 hours earlier and even worse “We have sent you a letter to let you know” My first thought was “FOR FUCK SAKE!” my mum is not shy about opening letters and saying “I thought it was for me” even though our names are entirely different. I was petrified all day at work, about this letter and what its fate would be when I arrived home.
But also work was absolutely horrendous. I was at work all day. It moved slow, and to top it off I did the work of two people because the supervisor is the worst employee on the planet. I did her job, people were asking me questions about refunds and exchanges. I was finding the posters that needed to go on the table to show the new mark downs, I was changing the table and finding places for the new stock. It was at 11am when I had my first panic attack. I told someone I work with, someone who I feel understood how much pressure that a proportion of the staff who work there are under. I had to sit on the floor. She probably thinks I am crazy now. I was shaking and telling her I couldn’t get everything done. She stayed 30 minutes later than she should have to help me because she knew I wasn’t ok. And I feel terrible about that, I kept telling her to go home but she wouldn’t listen to me. I tried my best to get everything done, but something in the back of my head kept reminding me that as a huge failure I probably forgot something hugely important or messed up somehow and broke something. In fact, knowing my luck, I probably caused the shop to burst into flames at 4AM or something ridiculous. When I got home, I had to send an essay to the person working the next day to apologise for anything I had forgotten to do and that the shop was a mess because “I” hadn’t had time to tidy it. I told that colleague that I had self harm, she was trying to make me feel better by telling me she though I was great but I wasn’t listening. I do not think I am great and do not understand those who do. I realise that I shouldn’t be getting this stressed about this stuff, it is someones job to do this, the supervisor should have been doing this. I would not make a good supervisor. Not because I would panic because i think I held it together quite well yesterday considering. But because fuck that, at the moment simply existing is a full time job for me and I do not need the pressure of another. I don’t want to be in charge. I want to be quiet in a corner, putting stock away. Boring monotonous tasks, the key to making people with Aspergers happy.
I think people still don’t see the real me, because I am not a good person, I am a terrible person who hurts everyone with these stupid thoughts of self harm and these stupid fears of seeing doctors. I cause people to worry about me. It is not fair. I cause people so much stress. I am a terrible person. I should hide away.
Well, that was a rant, I still haven’t been to the doctors yet. I’m having a panic attack thinking about yesterday, though, but it’s more than that. Right now I am incredibly stressed. I don’t want to blame my partner for this because it is not his fault. But I am worried about him and his mental health right now. I am getting closer to breaking point and that scares me. I have gone from having one manageable panic attack a day to having 2 to 3 a day. And they aren’t all the same. The ones I can deal with best are the ones where I feel like I am going to pass out, but when I suddenly become breathless and shaky and I’m struggling to hide these. In fact these are a new wave of panic attacks for me. I have only ever had one panic attack where I hyperventilated. I’m shaking as I write this because I’m not giving myself a chance to calm down. More than anything I am worried about my appointment. I don’t want to talk about the self harm, but I know I have to, I don’t want to talk about my panic attacks but I know I have to. I know I have to go alone and I am scared, which is normal. I always panic before a doctors appointment regardless of why I am going. I am shaking uncontrollably and its worrying me more. I will stop writing and try to rest until after my appointment.
What an idiot! I went to the doctors, I was shaking from the second I left my house and made the 10 minute walk to the surgery, I changed my contact number before my appointment because I could feel my anxiety levels spiking. My appointment was 15 minutes late. I was shaking and sweating by the time my name was called. The minute I stepped into the office, I knew I had made a mistake, seeing this doctor instead of my original. You see I have seen this doctor before and he wasn’t very helpful. I told him I was having panic attacks, he put it down to my medication, I didn’t get to tell him about my self harm. Partly because I chickened out and partly because he spent the whole time telling me I was smart and should go to therapy before thursting another psychological therapy leaflet into my hand. This is the third time I have received this leaflet and everytime I have had no intention of ringing the number. Writing is my therapy.
I have a month of new pills Citalopram, I’m nervous about taking these. and I just read this about it “If you are taking Citalopram hydrobromide, or you care for someone who is taking Citalopram hydrobromide, you need to look out for changes in thoughts or behaviour that could be linked to self-harm or suicide.” Fantastic! I don’t like change, but also I feel like I should go back next week and see my real doctor because I am not coping. I’m home now and I am still shaking and now I’m crying too. I’m not even sad, my brain is just forcing water out through my eyes. I don’t want to make another appointment. It might seem weird. I should wait the month out. I don’t want to waste anyones time. I deserve the pain in my shoulders and lower back, I deserve the scars I get from the incisions I made in my arm. I deserve to feel this way. That doctor doesn’t know me, I am not smart. I pretty much failed almost all of my schooling until I reached 18. I am going to see how this month pans out, let it happen. I deserve this. I deserve to suffer this.
The Elephant in the Room