Well, against my better judgement, I told NewVCB everything that I reported here yesterday . Everything except the eating stuff, that is. I am really pretty sure that that’s irrelevant.
I am apparently in the middle of a “delusional psychosis”. This means that from now on I will now have to ingest 200mg more Seroquel daily (for a total of 600mg, a dose she had always intended to take me to anyway, apparently), if my GP’s administrators and/or Fat Pharmacist don’t fuck it up.
I tried to argue with NewVCB about this, stating that if I needed stronger drugs, then that needed to be reflected in a Venlafaxine increase and not Quetiapine. I was informed that Quetiapine should help my mood anyway, and that even if not, it was still it that she needed to amend as, “[I am] in a psychosis, Pandora.” I said that I wasn’t psychotic but she just raised her eyebrows in enraging defiance.
Three things really pissed me off. The first and second pertain to my intended ‘sexual abuse’ counselling with . Firstly, the fucking bitch rang C about my having seen them ! C!!!!! How dare she consult him? He is nothing to do with me any more. I had wanted him to have no knowledge of what became of me after he came to regard me as an inconvenience and that pettiness but definite preference aside, it simply has nothing to do with him. I wanted to beat her face in for speaking to the cunt. Instead of protesting, however, I submissively and pathetically meekly just raised my right eyebrow, murmuring that perennial but meaningless word, “oh.”
Secondly, and more importantly, she does not want me to see Nexus any time soon. Apparent C(unt) had thought it a great idea, as if he’s allowed to think fucking anything. NewVCB, however, thinks that the strength of my reactions to my alleged abuse in the past would be too strong for Nexus to cope with if they re-occurred. I laughed in her face and said, “what, like they weren’t for C?!”
She said, “oh, you’re still angry about that, then.” More on this in a minute.
Well, yes, I am. That, however, is not at all the point. The point is that C is not qualified to deal with supposed psychosis either – or, if he is, he never demonstrated such abilities to me. He just went about antagonising ‘ They ‘ even more than I did. I told NewVCB that I had felt surprisingly positive about Nexus, unlike how I felt about her fucking Trust’s “service”, but that I would go along with her decision simply because going to Nexus would be deceitful anyway, as the problems they are there to treat do not really apply to me.
She disagreed with me and said that that was not the reason that she didn’t want me to go right now. “I think it did happen, Pandora” she told me. I looked away in disgust. That’s right, NewVCB – cos you were there after all!
The third thing to piss me off was a pile of patronising bollocks she threw at me about the Madosphere. I told her that I was only telling her half of the supposedly relevant stuff because A and a number of my blog commentators had advised me to do so, and she started whinging about “being careful with online relationships” because she had “seen it go horribly wrong so many times”, and that “people aren’t always what they seen, and can project their own issues onto you.”
What the fuck is it with mental health professionals and derision of the online community? I would literally be dead without Twitter and the Madosphere. I can hardly extend that compliment to either her or C.
Through gritted teeth, I advised her that I was perfectly well aware of the ‘dangers’ of forming friendships online, but that my contact with most people had been long-term and considered, and that I had even met quite a few of my fellow mentalists anyway. She started trying to defend herself, but when I interjected that A had also met most of these people, she backed down.
I’m sorry, but. What. The. Fuck. I’m mental, not stupid. Am I not allowed my own agency? Am I supposed to be an adjunct of A now, a proposition that he finds as abhorrent as me? I have an IQ of 148. I have been using the Internet for 12 years. I had my fingers burned by Hideous Ex and learnt my lesson. I felt that she was insulting both me and a number of people who have been instrumental in keeping me alive for months, so this served to make me want to break her perfectly formed little neck.
She asked about suicide and I said that I had planned to do myself in in early October, but that I had decided to put it on hold on a temporary but rolling basis. She asked why I had come to this conclusion, and I didn’t really have an answer. I don’t want to say I have ‘hope’ cos that’s a lie. I just feel sorry for Mum and A, and that’s what I told her; I said that I had to be certain that the positives of my proposed non-existence outweighed the negatives of hurting them. I think they do, but I feel further specific rumination is required. She seemed to be fairly accepting of this, to be fair, and I’ve managed to wrangle another month of (sort of) freedom.
She said that although I am “definitely psychotic” (bullshit), that it’s still not schizophrenic-like psychosis. It’s “dissociative psychosis,” apparently, and I need to start believing that I was abused because “it is rare for people presenting these type of psychoses to not have been abused.” OK. Whatever.
She asked why I had now gotten it into my head that no sexual abuse had in fact taken place, and I said that I’d considered it in depth and concluded that Paedo/Not-Paedo was “not very bright” and was thus incapable of sustaining such a necessarily hidden activity for so long.
Without pausing for breath, NewVCB replied, “and how, then, do you explain those two brothers in Donagh , who had abused so many over so many years but didn’t have the requisite IQ to even stand trial for their acts?”
Not easily, admittedly. So I changed tact, and said that dissociation was a load of old bollocks, and that you simply don’t forget matters of that magnitude. Or at least that I didn’t.
She looked at me sceptically. “You know perfectly well how and why dissociation takes place,” she responded, almost witheringly. So I’m not stupid when it comes to the finer theoretical points of psychological fragmentation, but I am when it comes to choosing my own friends?! Fucks’ sake.
Towards the end of the appointment, in some desperation, I said, “NewVCB, what’s wrong with me?” She started banging on that I am not schizophrenic, but that these symptoms are often seen in traumatised people. She had already said that, and I already knew it, so I just interrupted her and said, “I don’t think I have borderline personality disorder.”
Actually, I don’t know if I think that or not, but I hate the bloody thing, so I said it anyway. She asked why. I told her my relationships are stable, that I’m usually pretty submissive, that I don’t really self-harm any more (though, I realised later, I have a tell – I tapped my recently injured right leg as I said that), that I ideate about suicide but that I don’t go about taking overdoses each day and that I’m not particularly impulsive.
She said that there were almost two types of what she called “emotionally unstable personality disorder” (which, if she had bothered to read her ICD, there actually are – but anyway): you had the stereotypically ‘borderline’ types who OD every day and slash up their arms three times an hour and beg for help then don’t take it. I noted this description with interest.
“And then there’s people like you, where psychosis and dissociation is a lot more common, where you go through periods of exhibiting some of the more typically borderline behaviours, but then come out of them and into another type of period – not that you’re better, but the symptoms are different.” Apparently. Good to know that NewVCB is more knowledgeable about BPD/EUPD than the DSM/ICD, then.
I said, “this Trust discriminates against me because of the diagnosis.”
“No,” she protested. “10 or 15 years ago, maybe even five, I’d have agreed – but PDs are no longer diagnoses of exclusion [nice reading of the NICE guidelines there]. The Trust are setting up a personality disorder service, and a lot of moves are going in that direction.”
“As a current service user I do not agree that there is no ‘exclusion’,” I replied. “Do you really think I’ve been treated well within this service? And do you really think the discriminatory way in which you just described the ‘typical borderline’ is a description of inclusion?”
She looked at me sheepishly. “Yes,” she said finally, nodding guiltily. “I can see where you’re coming from.”
So, win on that, and the appointment wasn’t all bad – far from it. Mwhahaha! The best thing was this. Oh, the sweet, rapturous beauty of this. In her asking about my anger re: the end of therapy with C(unt), I somehow (I don’t recall the specifics) mentioned my correspondences with Mr Director-Person, assuming she was in full knowledge of them.
“I’m sorry for dragging you into it all in the most recent letter ,” I told her. To my surprise, I was greeted with a blank expression of nothingness.
“I’ve been communicating with Mr D-P since December,” I advised. “Aren’t you aware of this?”
She asked me to outline the exchanges in more detail, which I did. She looked at me with increasing levels of disgusted surprise with each new tale. “He [Mr D-P] didn’t copy me in on any of this,” she gasped when I had finally relayed the entire story.
She picked up my file and looked through it, in the apparent hope that maybe someone had filed a letter away without having informed her. “I know they didn’t,” she said as she did flicked letters, prescriptions and my own written submissions, “but I just can’t believe this. I have to check.”
Of course there had been no such administrative error at all. Mr D-P simply had had such little regard for my case that he hadn’t even bothered to think my consultant worth…well, consulting.
‘Furiously stunned’ is the best way I can describe NewVCB’s reaction to Mr D-P’s continued negligence. She herself said the only way she could describe how she felt was to use the word “gobsmacked.”
Notably irked, she exclaimed, “I’m going to ring [Mr D-P's first name]. I’m going to ring him, demand the chain of correspondence, and see what has been going on here.” I smiled internally at this. I wonder what excuse he’ll use to try and fob her off?
I told her that the Trust’s last letter was full of half-truths and lies, and she didn’t seem to have any doubts as to the authenticity of my claims.
So. I have caught the Trust in an outright lie, and I have caught them having such complete disregard for my condition that they didn’t even consult my psychiatrist – she who is ultimately in charge of my care, as far as I know – on how best to proceed with my treatment. This calls for a follow-up letter to McGimpsey and MP:
And back to Nexus for a second – should I phone (gah!) NewVCB tomorrow and tell her, given that I forgot/didn’t have the balls to do so today, that there is a waiting list for their counselling anyway, and that I almost certainly wouldn’t see them before I next see her anyway? And promise that if I am still “psychotically delusional” or whatever the fuck it is, that I will then put the matter on hold? It had all seemed so positive, and I don’t like the idea of putting it off notably.