Left psychiatrist without a prescription.

I went to my appointment today and explained that whatever I had taken was making me really really tired. He said “hmmmm” and started flipping through my file, asking me what meds I have been on in the past, before I came to see him, which I really don’t remember at all. Then I said why not just leave well enough alone, because I thought things couldn’t get any worse but when I couldn’t make it through a workday, that was actually worse. And that the world only cares about whether I go to work and pay my rent, the world doesn’t care how I feel about it.

So he said maybe we would leave it for a week, because I just tried two medications that didn’t go well for me, and that he would see me next week. I cried on the bus on the way to the appointment, and then pulled myself together to sit in the waiting room, and although I started crying when I was with him I still kept it mostly together. I think I know where that I have to go right back out in the waiting room in a minute so I’m trying not to lose it. I wonder if this gives him the impression that I’m doing better than I am, though. Or maybe now that it’s been two months since I got out of the hospital, that this is a sustainable level of emotions. I don’t know. He did ask me when I was seeing my therapist next, and the answer was today, as I had an evening appointment.

I started straight up full on crying in the waiting room, and continued crying during the whole session, and the therapist clearly gets how bad I feel. He manages to say stuff that makes me feel better, or at least understood, and I end up not really being able to remember anything specific after I leave. Like, I’ll talk about how I don’t see how I can go on, and he’ll say something like “you’re just surviving right now, but you feel really bad” and I’ll be like yes! That’s it exactly! 

He must be concerned for me, because this is through the employee assistance program, and I know those programs have a limit on sessions. If you have more than just a handful, you’re supposed to be in a special program where are you also have a limited number of sessions, but you fill out questionnaires about your symptoms and a bunch of other stuff. I was in that last year, but he just said not to worry about it and is happy for me to go see him every week, so he must be keeping the company off his back somehow.

It just occurred to me on the way home and I’m going to make a note of it to tell my psychiatrist next week, but my parents didn’t ask me if I was OK when I told them that my car was written off. My mom emailed me and asked if I was all right the next day. It didn’t occur to them at the time, because all they give a shit about is money, and when they heard the insurance was paying it that was all they cared about; that, and yelling at me. But really, when I say I was in a car accident and the insurance is writing it off, that could’ve meant that I was in a real wreck. I could’ve been talking to them with casts on my arms and legs. I’m sure if I put it to the bluntly, they totally would deny that money was important to them but the proof is in the pudding; their daughter told them she was in a car accident that resulted in the car being written off, and they didn’t even think to ask me how I was until the next day. So fuck them. Fuck them SO HARD.

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