Trust your instinct. That’s what we’re told is the best way to operate, right? Except when you have borderline. Then you have to do the exact opposite of what feels right, especially if it feels absolutely, urgently right. I am all over the place.
I decided last week after seeing my psychiatrist that I was going to go and get my GP to sign me back in to work (occ health said they’d bring my review date forward if my GP gave me the ok). It absolutely felt like the right thing to do, so much so that I wanted to go and do it immediately. Hubby talked me down to a compromise – if I could actively get my shit together for a few days and function like a normal human being, I could go and see him today. That conversation happened on Thursday.
Friday was an unholy nightmare. Friday evening I agreed that maybe it was too soon to be thinking about going back. But then guilt kicked in again, so I told Hubby last night I was going to see my GP today. Again, he didn’t agree. How can I go from the state I was in on Friday to being 100% ready for work today? Have I been functioning? Have I been motivated? Not exactly. So that was where the conversation about urges came up. If I get an urge to do something, and do it NOW, because it’s ABSOLUTELY, 100% THE RIGHT THING TO DO, (I’m using caps because that’s how loud my brain shouts when I get a notion in my head) then I have to not do it. I have to do whatever I can to distract myself from that urge. I have to ignore my gut instinct.
I need help. I need help so, so badly, and I can’t tell you how ashamed I am to be saying that. I’ve been muddling through for 5 months now, getting in a steadily worse state as I go. Drugs have been upped 3 times, with little or no perceivable impact. I’m in limbo. I went into town this morning with a list of jobs to do, but instead had a spectacular meltdown, alone, in the middle of Galway. It was really, really scary. My gut told me exactly the right thing to do was go and knock on Therapist’s door. I didn’t. But the effort of not doing that, of taking myself away from what felt like the only available option had me in pieces. I got back to the car and drove in circles for a bit, not knowing where I was going. I kept pulling over because I couldn’t figure out what to do and I was crying too much to drive. Should I go to my doctor? Should I go to the hospital and demand to see my psychiatrist? Should I just go home? I so badly want to talk to someone about the insane level of emotion that I have going on right now, at the same time as feeling completely hollowed out.
I rang Hubby. Again, he talked me down. He should not have to keep doing this, it’s not fair. He’s not my therapist, he’s my husband. I am being crushed by guilt. I’ll keep going because I have to, but the effort of fighting with myself, second guessing myself, constantly trying to ascertain whether there’s another, more disordered reason why I want to do something……it’s breaking me.