Fight the Good Fight

Not like yesterday. Yesterday I felt great. Motivated.Productive. Able to emotionally take on the world. 

Today I am weak and tiredand bursting at the seams with tears.

I feel like death.

I can’t even say I feel like dying (although now that I mentionit). I just feel DEAD. No positive emotions exist in me today. I am worthless. AndI have things to do.

Tuesday was a good day. Not necessarily for my mood. But becauseI met my new therapist. And I think it will work well. The session went so wellthat I felt hopeful for the first time in a long time. She seems much moreaction-focused. And she was so super-perceptive and validating. And she thinksI am somewhere on the bipolar spectrum, that my depressions fluctuate betweendysthymic and full-on depression (but we didn’t get too far in to diagnosis…mainlyjust my history). But that I do have a lot of unresolved trauma that could beexacerbating my issues. And she completely acknowledged that I do NOT need totry another SSRI. She said SSRIs don’t work so well for people with bipolar.THAT’s WHAT I TRIED TO TELL THOSE IDIOTS IN LA, but no one listened. And shejust seemed to get me.

She asked me to cancel my appointment with the psychiatristthat I had randomly picked because she said his style was a better fit for men.She turned green when I said I was to have an appointment with him; it wasquite amusing. The funny part is, I had a feeling he was not right. When I sawhis picture on their website, he looked like your typical male psychiatrist whois smug and believes that all women are suffering from hysteria and hormones andneed to be fucked into sanity. Or, more likely, drugged until they can’t spelltheir own name. I thought I was just being judgmental, but from the look on mytherapist’s face when I said his name, I don’t think I was far off the mark.

She also said my “case” was more than a MHNP (mental healthnurse practitioner) could treat. That, with my history, I needed an experiencedwoman psychiatrist who was very familiar with women’s issues. It made me feelvalidated, although somewhat surprised. I never feel like I’ve been throughenough to justify being like this. And I also never believe people when theysay I’ve been through a lot. But I guess I have. I just feel like MOST peoplehave been through a lot. To me, LIFE is trauma. But does EVERYONE have to fightthe urges to destroy themselves? I guess not.

So anyway, the appointment went really well. And gave mesome kind of hopeful high for the last day and a half.

But now I am back in the pit. And I want to cut my fuckingarm off. And I want to cry. And my heart won’t stop pounding outside of mychest. And I am trying to purge all this negative emotion. To package it upnicely and put it on the shelf so that I can get through this workday. BecauseI have so much to do.

I really wanted to ask for her to give me some time awayfrom work. But we didn’t get that far. I get so wrapped up in talking about mylife history, and I was so excited with how well it seemed to go, that I justforgot.

I forgot. And now I am still here. Fighting, fighting,fighting. Because that is what I HAVE to do.

When we ended the session, she summarized what she thoughtabout the whole thing and said something to the effect of dealing with all the traumaand internal stuff so I can be happy. I wish I could remember exactly what shesaid because right when she said it I burst into tears; she hit the nail on thehead. But my memory is shite.

Ultimately, I burst into tears because what she said soundedALMOST possible. Like it was within my reach if I just try hard enough with thatsupport there to hold me up along the way. That I could get a hold of myselfand deal with all of the trauma. And finally get to the point where I am not constantlybattling supreme emptiness or counting the days until I die.

And maybe actually feel somewhat satisfied in my life. Oh,my god! That sounds like hope. I REALLY. REALLY. HOPE it works out.