I'm actually quite alright right now. And I didn't crash yesterday. Maybe the worst is over. My anxiety is still strong and I wouldn't be able to do anything demanding right now. But I'm not sad. I have been looking at cat-memes all morning. Ah, by the way, that's something that annoys me. That these pictures are called memes. Meme is a term that Richard Dawkins brought up in a sociological meaning. A meme is a unit in our society that is generally accepted as a truth and therefore is inherited by the next generation. It works in society at the time and keeps up certain laws. Religion is a meme, capitalism is a meme, patriarchy is a meme. But I'll not be all intellectual now, most people aren't interested in those kinds of things anyway.
I have had some confusing and weird thoughts. I think they are some kind of defense-mechanism. It's like this: there is a lot of confusion around what diagnosis I have. I have met many (many!) different psychiatrists during the almost three years I'm contact with psych-help. And they all come up with different ideas about what to exactly call my condition(s). They all kind of agree on Avoidant Personality Disorder/Social Anxiety, PTSD and GAD. But they don't think that's all and I agree with that. So first they were convinced that I have Borderline Personality Disorder. But I don't have that, I don't fit the category, I'm not impulsive, I have no problems with relationships. So they thought that I might have Depressive Personality Disorder/Dysthimia. But nope, now I'm bipolar instead.
I'm so tired of it! Why must my case be so complicated?!? Why can't I just have one diagnosis? Why can't they see what I'm suffering from? I have done two kinds of therapy so far. CBT and DBT. Both didn't help me one bit. I'm one of the "unlucky" ones who doesn't get better by just going against her feelings. Like, one of my social anxieties ( I have many, I avoid all kinds of human contact if possible. I haven't met a single friend since February. I haven't been outside our apartment for almost a month now) is to take the subway. I saw that as my main obsticle to get to university, the one place I want to get to! So I did all the exercises, I took the subway every day to university for almost a month. And it didn't get better, it got worse. I eventually ended up at some subway-station in central Stockholm where the police picked me up because I had a major breakdown. I wanted it soooo bad! And it didn't work out. I theoretically understood and still understand how CBT works. But it doesn't work for me. DBT. Well, it wasn't for me. I felt like an outsider during the year I did that therapy. I was the odd one out. I didn't have their problems, my problems were totally different. I didn't get better, I even got worse because I saw everyone else doing progress and I was still stuck with my anxiety and suicidal ideation. One time I was sent to hospital right after grouptherapy because I was sucidal. That was so embarrassing! Anyway, I didn't like DBT, I found it condescending. Mindfulness is a joke to me. It doesn't work for me for several reasons. I might write another entry about that one day.
Meds don't work for me. I'm too sensitive to medication. I get so strong side-effects that I end up in hospital every time I try out a new med. I get even paradoxal side-effects! I can get euphoric of benzodiazipines. I got really tired of Wellburtin. The few medications that have helped me (Abilify and Lamictal) I had to stop taking because they caused Caged Tiger Syndrome and an allergic shock.
So what is left for me? What more can they do? Psychodynamic therapy? Try out even more meds? I have lost all hope. So now to my weird thoughts. There are several:
1. I'm too fucked up. No one can help me. They only see me as an annoyance. It's my own fault because I can't really describe my feelings. I am intellectualizing everything. I'm a lost cause to them.
2. Maybe I'm not ill! Maybe I'm healthy and all the meds I have tried out actually made me ill. And to continue to have contact with the psychiatric center will only make things worse. So I better quit everything. Stop taking all the meds. And hope for the best.
3. Why do I continue to fight? I can continue living this meaningless life some more years. Until the pain gets too much and I commit sucide. That has been on my mind since I was a child. I have always been convinced that I'll die by my own hand. So why fight it? Maybe that's my fate (although I don't believe in the concept of fate or determination)
But I know what I'm actually feeling. It's fear. It's the fear that they actually have nothing more to offer me. And the fear that they think that I don't want help. I haven't tried out the Seroquel. I always seem okay when meeting the professionals because I can hold the mask up. At least most of the time. I haven't even cried once in therapy! So maybe they think I'm just a lazy attentionwhore. I have real difficulties to ask for help or to be honest about how I'm feeling, or to even describe my feelings. So yeah. I've lost hope. And I'm afraid that they have lost hope too. I'm afraid that they will say they I have to blame myself to not take the help they offer me. But what is it they offer me anyway? Hence the defensive thoughts. Better to believe that I'm not ill, better to believe that I'll kill myself eventually than to face the truth that there might not be any help out there for me.
Maybe I don't want help? I often feel like I just want to be left alone. Maybe in the end it's the fear for change. I don't fucking know. I want to be myself. I want to be able to try out to live. I want to reach my full potential. I want to be the best I can be. But the years I have fought for getting the right kind of help have made tired. I don't want to fight anymore. It doesn't seem worth all the pain. It's just not worth it.
I don't even know if this entry makes any sense! I better go and get another cup of coffee. And smoke a cigarette. And get some logic into my head.
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