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Mental Health Awareness Month has come to an end, and I feel like I simultaneously said too much and too little.

How do you condense a lifetime of information and anecdotes into one month, especially when life happens and you don’t have the chance to do or write something each day?External things have been pulling my focus, and rightfully so.

Plus, after a while you start to feel like a broken record.

Anyway, today I have therapy, and more and more it feels like this enormous chore to just…get done and get on with the rest of my day…which is nothingness, usually.   I know logically that I am incredibly fortunate to be able to attend therapy, especially on a weekly basis, and especially with someone trained in treating Dissociative Identity Disorder.

But I now have an uncooperative alter who harmed the body (not seriously enough to warrant medical attention, don’t worry – I handle my shit and would get it seen if it were bad) and who doesn’t want to work with the therapist anymore and may end up being a roadblock.

What’s more, I question more frequently whether I should be in or even need therapy.

When I was misdiagnosed with Bipolar Disorder many, many years ago, they had me believing I’d be in treatment for the rest of my life, so I resigned myself to that.

I may not have the most “functional” DID system, or even a lot of communication and co-consciousness….but does that necessarily mean that I need to continue therapy?  Who the hell knows?

Starting next week, things begin to pick up the pace with stuff I have to do in my “real life”.  Some changes are exciting, but I also find all change stressful.

Not to mention, June is one of my most loathed months.  And not just because of heat and insects.  It just has a lot of bad memories attached to it, and on one specific “anniversary” of something difficult, I’ll be out of town and won’t have a therapy session where I usually would that day.

 

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Disjointed ramble

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A common theme is emerging.

Therapist: Because you’re depressed.

Me: I’m not depressed.  This doesn’t feel like how depression used to feel all the other times.  I just feel nothing.  And remember we discussed how an alter took all extreme emotion in 2016 so I’d be able to function and do theatre things?

Therapist: You’re in emotional shutdown.

Me: But I’m not depressed.

Okay, so basically that’s how it goes.

I don’t know if I’m actually depressed or not.  It’s not like I hate myself or anything. I don’t even notice feeling sad.  I am just…here.  I mostly feel constant anxiety, if anything.

But here are some things that might point to depression:

  • I can’t concentrate for long
  • Thinking about even sitting through 30 minutes of a TV show I like exhausts me and I can’t concentrate on the storyline
  • I’m constantly antsy
  • I’m not sleeping well
  • I’m irritable
  • My appetite is weird
  • I want to be around people but I also want to isolate and the conflicting feelings leave me angry at myself
  • More and more I find myself randomly on the verge of tears (though this could be bleedthrough emotion from an alter, who knows?)
  • I am becoming indecisive
  • Even choosing which music to listen to feels like an impossible task
  • I am constantly exhausted to the point where I’ll fall asleep sitting up
  • I basically don’t really feel anything
  • My anxiety is worsening
  • My health anxiety is also worsening
  • I feel physically heavy, like moving dead weight
  • Dissociative episodes of varying intensity and duration are happening more
  • My mind wanders more
  • I’m not enjoying anything at all (yeah, I know I’m way more limited as to what I can physically do now, but still)

But I’m still “functioning”. Well. as much as having mental and physical conditions allows me to function.  Stuff like getting a shower or eating, etc.  Getting dressed.  I’m still doing that.  Which is different from how depressive episodes used to be for me.  Back then I’d have to take a break in between tying my shoes and cry because it took too much energy.  And I’d be in bed for days straight (needing help to even stand just to use the restroom  because I was so tired I would actually collapse) and be self-harming and crying and it would take too much energy to open my eyes.

But that’s not happening this time?

But maybe this is  warning sign and it’s going to get to that point.  I just don’t know what to think anymore.

I haven’t felt depressed since 2014.

Maybe the physical condition set it in motion this time, I really don’t know.

I see the psychiatrist before the therapist this Thursday, so maybe I’ll run it by him.  None of my medications have changed.  But I’m no longer on an antidepressant.  Not since they found out they misdiagnosed me with Bipolar Disorder for years.

I just don’t know.

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Snippet

I very rarely hear my alters.  Even if I do, it’s usually so quick that I can’t decipher what’s been said.  Sometimes I catch what they’re saying.  But usually it’s a kind of static silence.

So imagine my surprise when, after 11 p.m. last night, I felt distant and weird, and then I actually heard an alter telling another one that they were not allowed to do something.

I had a huge headache.  I remember saying both of the arguing alters’ names, and asking them to please stop because I was in pain and exhausted and wanted to sleep.

I was afraid to look in the mirror because I thought for sure I’d see one of them instead of my own face.

To even say their names out loud is new-ish for me.  Maybe it’s a step forward?  I don’t know.

I found myself so unprepared and ill equipped to deal with the situation.  I don’t know what to do when it occurs.  It’s a helpless and frightening feeling for me.

All I could do was lie down and let it happen.

Nothing bad appears to have happened.

I emailed my therapist today to fill her in on the event.  I’m sure she will find it holds some significance.

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My brain can’t seem to decide what it wants to do, so I find myself blank and standing or sitting somewhere in my house, wanting to do a few things but being unable to decide between them, so I guess ultimately doing none of them. It’s been like this for about a week now.

At least I did my physical therapy exercises, but now I’m trying to reassure myself that I’m not suddenly allergic to a piece of equipment even though I’ve used it before.  It’s been a slowly developing phenomenon, this fear I’ll develop a reaction when I never have before.

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Stuff about eating and weight below

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Today I have a scheduled session with the therapist.  It will be my first time officially meeting her.  We scheduled a session specifically with me arriving so that time will not be wasted with Megan resisting a switch or even co-consciousness.  We do not have the kind of time for that and then to only be able to force our way to the front with approximately 10 minutes remaining in the session.  It is unreasonable to expect any headway to be made in that fashion.

I have not been out nearly as much as I used to be, and even I am unsure as to the reason why.

It feels good to wear jewelry, a dress, and heels again.  First impressions matter.

I will be bringing the system journal with me so that I can write any notes from the session, especially if they need to be passed on to anyone in the system.  It feels like a proactive step.

-J

 

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