I’m just going to briefly mention how my poorly dog is doing. I took him to the vet first thing this morning and he was kept in until 5pm on IV fluids and some other medicines. She didn’t think he was ill enough to need to stay overnight but also wasn’t happy to just let him go so I’ve to take him back in at 10am tomorrow morning to be checked over and if needed, another day on the IV fluids and maybe start some proper tests. He is very lethargic and didn’t even want to come out for his bedtime walk (then again it’s like a snow blizzard outside just now). So he is still a poorly doggy and still hasn’t eaten, so I’m still a bit worried about him. It’s at times like this I really wish they could talk to you and let you know what was wrong
Whilst the vet tried to make him feel a little better I spent my day with a couple of appointments. The first was with new CPN which was a fucking joy as always (yes I am being sarcastic). I went in there not knowing what to say and she didn’t even mention the self harming or me missing my last appointment. We talked a bit about the voices and I told her that I do think the Quetiapine is trying to help a bit but it just doesn’t feel like I’m taking quite enough. Now my psychiatrist classes the maximum dose of Quetiapine as 750mg a day, but from the reading I’ve done 800mg seems to be prescribed quite often so I told her I’d like to try another increase but wasn’t too sure if Mr Psychiatrist would agree to it when I see him on Wednesday. She asked me if I wanted her to phone and mention to him so he’ll already know what I want to talk about before I go in.
So all that bit was fine. Until I started talking about my cousin’s wedding next weekend and talked about how many things I have missed out on for 7 years, SEVEN fucking years all due to this fucking stupid phobia about travelling away from my ‘safe place’. And this is where the appointment fell apart. Whilst she was rambling on about anxiety and phobias and all that scary stuff my head was bouncing the same thought round and round: to tell her about my plotting and planning or not to tell her?
Well… I figured I’m not going to gain anything by lying to her or by keeping things bottled up. So I told her. I started to tell her that I’ve been having thoughts racing round and round my head of what a perfect opportunity it would be next weekend to put an end to everything. Now, I wanted to continue to say that of course I wouldn’t actually do anything because:
- I’ve realised that I’m actually pretty scared about dying (as well as living)
- It’s my little man’s anniversary next Monday and I definitely would be here for that.
But I got interrupted as she cut in and said “I never ever would have thought that you could be so selfish. This is your cousin’s wedding day and just think how much you would ruin it when all the family returned home to find out what you’d done. Every single wedding anniversary your cousin would have would just be all about when you killed yourself. That is incredibly selfish. I can’t believe you could say something like that”.
(Not an exact quote but close enough)
Now I don’t dispute for one second that it would be an incredibly selfish thing for me to do and I’m not even that bothered that she went on a little rant about me being a selfish person. Well she could have picked slightly less harsh words but what really annoyed me was the way she just cut in when it was clear I was still in the middle of speaking to start calling me selfish… she didn’t even hear me out and I had to wait til she was finished her little rant before I could tell her the reasons why I wouldn’t act on the thoughts.
To be honest I think what I found hardest about the conversation was that it was the first time of really talking about suicidal feelings with her and I guess I hoped that even though I moan about her all the time I still hoped that when the time came to talk about serious and difficult things that she would actually display some empathy. Not sit and criticise me and call me selfish. By doing that all she has done is made me feel even less like I can open up to her and I can’t help but wonder what’s going to happen if I ever experience a real crisis and really need her help.
When the appointment was over and she told me she was taking a couple of weeks holiday so wouldn’t be able to see me again until the 20th of Feb I was quite relieved. I did get to say to her in the end that I had no intentions of doing anything to myself this coming weekend and mentioned the little one’s anniversary was next Monday and she didn’t even comment on it. I had to ask her if it would be OK for me to phone and speak to whatever member of staff was on duty that day if things got too hard (I probably wouldn’t phone but it’s nice to know there is that option if needed) and she was just like yes you can call if you really need it.
So I left that appointment wondering what the point to it had been, as is becoming the norm for when I leave appointments with her. Thankfully I had an appointment straight after it with my support worker through Rape Crisis and managed to get it off my chest. Support worker agreed that she thought new CPN had been a bit harsh the way she had spoken to me so once I had spoke about that for a few minutes I stopped feeling so annoyed and managed to have a good chat with her about some other shit that’s been on my mind, just stuff about my feelings towards men and how completely convinced I now am that I won’t ever have another relationship with a guy – partly because of how they’ve treated me and partly because I couldn’t ever imagine exposing my scarred body to someone again.
Right, before I go off into another ramble about all of that stuff I think I’d better take myself off to bed seeing as it’s nearly 1am. Keeping my fingers crossed that my poorly dog is a bit better in the morning.