So, apparently, my care team (and myself) need to start stepping things up, a LOT. This is what my psychiatrist tells me. “I have a feeling that you’re getting tired and tired of making safety plans and getting frustrated with needing to” he says. “I’m really concerned that we’re not doing enough to keep you safe and to help you. We need to step things up for you.”
Yep. I’m sick of needing everyone to be constantly watching me. I’m sick of knowing that they have good reason too. I’m sick of feeling like I’m living my life fighting just enough to keep my head above water. I feel like I’m spending more time under water desperately trying to fight my way towards the surface and less time breaking through and taking a deep breath of fresh air and catching my breath. Spending more time encapsulated by the blackness and less time appreciating the tiny little ray of sunshine that’s decided to make an appearance around the edges.
The psychiatrist doesn’t want me to do my exams or clinical placement that are coming up in the next three weeks. “You’re too tired, I really want you to spend some time just looking after yourself, I’m concerned if you take on the stress of exams and placement, you’ll hinder your situation rather than help things.” I defiantly folded my arms and told him that not doing the exams and placement wasn’t an option. I’ve worked too hard to get through this semester as it is, I’m not going to back out 3 weeks from the end. Not going to have to redo all my hard work next year and add another 12 months to my degree. No, just no. I’m not going to stop uni and waste the last 13 weeks just because I can’t get my shit together. Regardless of how logical his argument is, sitting at home staring at the walls with nothing to fill in the time between appointments is not going to do me any good right now. I’d rather keep myself busy for a while. Keep going.
Keep pretending, keep up the façade. Just gotta keep chugging along.
Alis Volat Propiis 