It’s not like anything specific had triggered this, and in all honesty, it had been coming for a while, just the month before I had terrified a trainee doctor when I came hysterically crying in her office explaining that I couldn’t sleep or motivate myself. “Do you feel suicidal” she said. Yes I replied. “Have you made a plan?” She said, No, I replied. I lied. I had made a pact with myself in February that I would kill myself in August had my life not turned around. Now it was September and nothing had changed, but I was still here. She prescribed sleeping pills doubled my dose of prozac and took a huge sigh of relief when I stopped hysterically crying and began to speak more clearly. She told me that if things got worse, I had to come back earlier than the 2 weeks she had suggested.
I have always hated that about doctors “if things get worse come back sooner” How do I judge when things are worse? When does worse, become worst? I’ve talked before about how I am unable to really judge what constitutes my mental health reaching a point where it is “worse” the gradual deterioration of me, is not great drop, but a smooth slope. I don’t see myself getting worse because I am with myself constantly. . .
But the point is suddenly I felt given up on. My doctor couldn’t help me and now he was palming me off to someone he assumed might be able to. When you become a doctor I assume it’s because you want to help people. Was it ok for me to be upset to feel almost “dumped” by a doctor I had invested my time and honesty about my mental health problems? I wanted him to help me. That’s why I had picked him out of all of the doctors I had seen over the first few months of my diagnosis. After this I always made my appointments with him, because I thought he understood. I thought he could help. . .
Some of the things I write about here I could never discuss out loud with anyone. Why? Because they hurt that much. I’m not ready. And I’m sure a lot of people with mental health problems will understand the idea of “not being ready”. . .
Read more of The Elephant’s story. Visit Pitty and fear: Or, Why I Am Not Yet Ready To Be Referred | The Elephant in the Room.
Trigger Warning: Brief mention of self-harm