So I think I had a pretty much disasterous day yesterday. I stormed out of therapy which is never a good sign. I was freaking out. I don’t even know what happened. I don’t remember everything. I was totally fine I think this morning, but I was really busy trying to be busy so I didn’t exactly have time to reflect. I was a ball of nervous energy at the HTT people that visited. It was all lack of eye contact, twitching toes. More than usual as well, which seeing as nervous energy is my usual reaction to other people is saying something. I was hit with gravity emotion a lot and had to keep stopping to get pulled to the Earth’s core a lot, especially on the overground, but I was ok. I started to get a little bit more worked up on the way to therapy. I was thinking of what I wanted to talk about and a lot of it just wasn’t true and I realised I was scared the Psychologist wouldn’t think I was good enough or something and he wouldn’t realise how much help I need and that my actual facts couldn’t describe what my internal world is. Add that to the fact that my internal world gets so confused with the external and I was getting myself a little bit too fast I think.
The Psychologist kept asking me questions and sometimes I’d answer, then I’d beat myself up for saying anything because it wasn’t right and I think nothing worth it and it’s all wrong anyway. I’d forget, then remember that I’m awful and shut up again. I think it really pissed him off. At one point he just started staring for ages and not saying anything. This got me really uncomfortable. I couldn’t stand the eyes like accusations, analysing my every move. I completely clammed up. I told him I had to leave and shouted a bit then stormed off. I immediately regretted it and stood outside hitting my thighs with my fists in order to pluck up enough confidence to go back. I knew I’d beat myself up for storming out, but it was a real fight. Physically I was winding tighter and tighter. I went back only to pace and shout and tell him off and tell him I needed to be taken seriously and that no one believes how much it burns my insides all the time yet no one hears me scream and I have to find a way to show people I’m screaming so that they understand and take it seriously and help me. Then I stormed out again. Second time I didn’t go back.
I then proceeded to stomp about north London, cursing at myself for being awful and getting increasing wound. I ended up calling a few people so I could tell them to take me seriously so that they would understand that I’m fucking suffocating in my brain and I need people to know and understand and help. Right now it feels like everyone thinks I’m a massive joke. I don’t want to be a joke. I’m desperate for someone to take me seriously. I feel like I have to do something so people know how I feel inside. This led to a few people getting anxious about my safety and I was forced into repeated contact and conversations ro keep track of me. To be honest, I think I was pretty vulnerable and at risk at that point.
I eventually calmed enough to get myself home and to lunch. Seeing the pup really helped me to chill. She’s so fantastic. If I feel shitty I can go and lie on the kitchen floor and put her on my belly and stroke her back. She makes my whole life better I swear down. She’s so fantastic.
Anyway, things got a little easier, but then quickly got worse again. I had the conversation with the Uncle last night. It was hard. I was talking about my recent history and issues whilst he told me about his past mental health difficulties. He was institutionalised with bipolar in the nineties and is probably the person I know with anything remotely close to similar to my current situation and really, it’s not all that similar. He’s a nice guy though and he’s got a lot of information on mood stabilizers and the like, as well as advice on how to navigate mental health care and a lot of positivity.
He’s a bit of a poster child for recovery. Still, I got all worked up about that too. I think it went ok. Apparently he told the Pa that he was “honoured” to have been asked. Seriously naff.
I then proceeded to hug the Ma for a really long time in the hope that I could convey the severity of how I felt. I don’t think I did though. I don’t think I actually understand the severity of how I feel so I just want to share it, but don’t know what it is. Then the Pa showed up and I didn’t think he was taking me seriously and didn’t care enough so I stormed off and hid in my room, locking myself in with lots of heavy items propped against my door. Luckily for me, I think my medications have effected my sleep so I’m quite tired in the evenings and fall asleep well (only to wake up in the very early hours. I’m still not getting enough sleep, but I am sleeping different I think. I have to try really hard to stay awake at night in the hope of pushing the time I wake up into more normal hours. It doesn’t work though and I end up falling asleep at like 1am, only to wake up at some point between 5am and 7am depending on the day. It’s not a lot less sleep than I need, but it builds up when it’s every single night. I’m exhausted all the time).
So after going over yesterday a little, I’ve discovered that I still have no idea why I freaked out so entirely. I do mean entirely as well. Physically, I couldn’t do anything but freak out. I just stopped thinking and started acting and I can’t identify why and it scares me. I don’t like it when I completely lose the ability the think and just start acting. I had a lot of those moments today when I realise I’m not in control. It’s really, really horrible actually.