Life with bipolar disorder: An online diary Part 9

2.8.00

It's been a long time, I know. I finished my semester and I'm well into my tests. Doing pretty good so far. My sleep, on the other hand, has gone crazy on me again. I'm used to it though and I know it will pass.

Went to see my shrink yesterday. The obligatory "once every two months" session. It was really screwed up. I didn't get much sleep the night before (about 2.5 hours), so I was kinda sleepy and didn't feel like talking much. On top of this, he got me angry with the first two words coming out of his mouth - he called me, Ms. Depakote. I DO NOT like being referred to as the name of the drug I'm currently on, or any other drug, disease, personality disorder and so forth.

I have a name, my name, Trillian, and I think it was meant to be used. At that point I was so mad I almost got up and left the place. Not a good start, huh ? Then I told him I'm quitting my therapy sessions. I have been waiting my time at my psychologist, so it's time to call it quits. I'm no good as a psych patient, I know. My shrink didn't really like the idea. He said I have a problem with my personality as well and it needs to be treated by a psychologist. I asked him what problem. He didn't come up with anything specific, but he said that my mistrust of people is a problem.

The truth is, I trust people, it's psyches (psychologists) and shrinks (psychiatrists) I don't trust. And if this is a personality flew, than so be it. This is one personality disorder I can live with quite well. I don't think it's in the DSM IV though-- "shrink oppositional disorder". Maybe we should add it? I think they'll love it. Then, anyone "not wanting treatment" could then be defined as having a personality problem in need of treatment. I have good reasons not to trust or like psyches all that much. I've been burned before. I don't talk about it much, but maybe it's time to get this out of my system.

I don't know if I have written much about my time in the army. Some of it isn't stuff I like to reminisce about, if you know what I mean. I was stationed in the armed division in the base I was in first. I was the only woman at the base. The guys were out training all the time and I was on my own for most of the time. I also had almost nothing to do. I was in those kind of jobs where you sort of decide what your job is.

I was supposed to take care of the soldiers in my unit. This is a really gray definition and I don't do well in fussy requirements. I need some time to think clearly. Anyway, since I had nothing to do and no one to talk to, I got really lonely and depressed. I would sit in my room for days just staring at the blank wall. I couldn't eat and I lost a lot of weight. My sleep was non-existent. I probably did sleep during the days, cause at some points I began to lose hours. I would look at the wall in my room for a few seconds, look at the watch and find out it's been 2 hours. GOD IT WAS SO SCARY !!! but I was still able to function for most of the time. That changed later.

After a girl who was with me at the command course shot herself, I went to the funeral and it was totally weird. I was totally numb. I felt nothing. I was even a little jealous. I came back to the base talked to my commander and asked to be relieved of my M-16 and to be sent to the mental health officer. BIG, BIG MISTAKE !!!!!!! He took one look at me, decided I was suicidal, and wanted me to admit it so he could discharge me from the army.

I didn't want to leave the army. I just wanted help. I wouldn't own up to being suicidal mostly because I wasn't at the time. From there, it was downhill. He did his best to break me down and I did my best to fight him. It was hell. You can't imagine what it like. I had to go see him. It was the army and he was a higher-ranked officer. No one asked me what I wanted. There was no getting away. I had to see him 4 times a week - only to hear that I'm a fucked up person and that I can't do anything right on my own and that I need his help. He hammered that to me over-and-over-and-over and over, till I couldn't take it anymore. He told me I was about to crash down totally and loose my mind in a matter of weeks (one week was what he said), that the my future prognosis is grim, that I will kill myself. I really don't think this is what a person with depression needs to hear from his therapist. He screamed at me, he humiliated me. He called a special meeting about me with the officers of my base. People I know! He made me sit in the middle and told me to beg them for help. I wish I could tell you what it felt like. To sit there, everyone looking at me waiting for me to beg... like a dog. I just froze - set there and did nothing. So he repeated himself raising his voice. I could see the smiles on everyone's faces. I was doing all I could to keep a smile on my face and to force back my tears. I wasn't about to give him the satisfaction. After some time of this, he sent me outside so they could talk about me, without me being present.

I was told to wait. I heard the laughs coming out of that room. I wanted to get the hell out of there, but couldn't. There was no need for this, you know. I can't see anything therapeutic in this. In the humiliation. He knew I wasn't about to beg for help and even if he thought I'd go along with it - why ? WHAT THE HELL FOR ?!? to prove to me I am nothing? To show how powerful he is, or how powerless I was? Till today, I don't know.

There where other things as well. He asked me about my sex life (which was non-existent at the time. I was 18.5 and I was a virgin at that time.) and when I didn't want to answer he yelled at me till I did. Then he laughed at me for been a virgin - told me he expected it from someone like me. He made me feel so bad that 3 weeks after this session, I was no longer a virgin.

I guess it would have been nice to have my first time done with someone I love - or know his name for that matter, but regretting it now is stupid. After 2-months of this, I broke down completely. I lost myself.-- everything. I was unable to do anything on my own. I had anxiety attacks on a regular basis. I was sure I was dangerous to myself and others. I was afraid to be left alone and I would become hysterical. The mental health officer became god. He was right. I can't make it. I am insane. I need help. I want to die. I WILL DIE.

I was reduced to a pathetic shadow of the person I was. I just wanted this to be over. It would have been over if I wasn't kept under a 24-hour suicide watch. I stopped eating completely. I had to be intubated to get food and fluids into my system. I wasn't sleeping and spent over a month in a zombie-like state. Anyway, finally he figured out he was going about it the wrong way. What happened was that since I hated and despised myself so much I was unable trust myself to deal with just about anything, I kept running for help with even the smallest thing. At that point he decided to cut me loose and told me that if something comes up, I should deal with it on my own and only once it's dealt with, to come see him.

Great idea that was. First he shattered me and then he left me to try and pick up the pieces. That's what I've been doing since then. Did a pretty ok job I must add. Some things remained though. I promised myself then - that if I get through this - I will never let something like that happen to me again. NEVER. If this means I have a personality flaw - ok. Better safe than sorry.

Trillian

Success does not consist in never making mistakes
but in never making the same one a second time.
~ George Bernard Shaw ~

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