I seem to have taken an involuntary hiatus. It’s been a long time since I wrote anything and I feel bad about that. Sometimes I get to a point where I keep putting things off and then I feel embarrassed and feel it’s too late to do something and feel like an idiot. I’m sorry everyone. In fact the only way to describe how I felt was that I was scared to come online and find more work to do when I didn’t have the brain capacity to do the work I had in real life. In fact. it was a more exaggerated way of the way I feel about texts and facebook. Often I will receive a facebook message or text and avoid it at all costs because I am terrified about having a conversation that leads to me making more excuses to not meet them.
I go to the doctors tomorrow. It’s been three months since I have seen a doctor. I have decided repeat prescriptions aren’t right for me. I need to see the doctor because I don’t feel able to make appointments between, although they always tell me I should make them If I feel bad. I feel like I’m wasting their time. I realise by saying that I’m keeping the stigma alive. But if I had a physical illness id feel the same. I haven’t even told the doctor about what I know is a heel spur in my right foot, or the three cysts I have growing on my scalp.
So many things have happened in the last few weeks and I’ve been up and down. Mostly down.
once I returned from my holiday I decided to rearrange my room. And I started, then I got fed up and just lay on my bed, with a big pile of stuff in the middle of my floor, which has been there for two weeks now.
My mum had a bit of a mental breakdown one Sunday night after we watched a TV show where a character’s mum died.
She told me I should see a doctor and “break the cycle”. That both her and my Grandma suffered from anxiety. I always thought my Grandma was so strong, she never seemed anxious, she always seemed so calm. Towards the end of her life, the anxiety was radiating from her and that was sad. I have always known how anxious my mum is. It has affected my life dramatically, her fear of losing me and my brother has had a negative effect on me mentally.
My mum told me she used to pick at her arms, leaving her with scars that she was embarrassed to show, she said it was like self-harming, and she’s right. It was. She said she knew I had cut myself. She told me she would always be there for me. But still I didn’t feel comfortable talking to her about how I feel. in fact I mostly stared ahead, sighed and nodded.
Today at work I had a bad time. I was angry, scared and sad. Some colleagues pissed me off today. And I got so angry I went to the stock room and hit a wall. And that makes me sad because I am terrified of my own anger. Absolutely terrified that one day I will crack and beat someone to death or lash out at the wrong person. I keep things bottled up. All emotions. Happiness, sadness, anger and all of those emotions merge into a ball of anger and once the anger starts leaking out I begin to struggle until I have physically destroyed something or hurt myself. And that is obviously not a good thing to worry about.
I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. I still have not had a call from anyone regarding the psychiatric nurses phone call. Tomorrow is the first time I will see a doctor since that day. And I need to tell him that I feel ignore and let down and disheartened. I don’t even know what to do anymore. I feel I’m not going to get help and I don’t know if I even care enough about it anymore to do anything. A small victory is that I will be seeing the doctor I saw that was really supportive. I am so happy I will be seeing him again.
I’m sorry I disappeared, no more involuntary hiatuses for this Elephant. All I have got from avoiding the blogosphere was a multitude of bottled up emotions. On the other hand, I received some lovely messages and it really meant a lot to me to know that people care. Thank you, and I am sorry to have worried you.
The Elephant in the Room