Why can’t someone just give me a proper diagnosis? First it’s nope, there’s nothing wrong with you. Then it’s nope, you’ve just got Depression. Oh, wait nope, it’s Borderline Personality Disorder and possibly PTSD. Actually, we didn’t mean that we mean Aspergers Syndrome and Dysthymic Depression. It’s ridiculous.
In my opinion Aspergers fits me. I’m not an expert or a professional so what do I bloody know? Nothing. Dysthymic Depression is characterised as a persistent mild depression. Mild…what is mild? For at least two days of the week sometimes more, I’m so sad that it’s physically impossible for me to prevent myself from crying and considering suicide. Is that mild?
All I know is that I’m tired. I feel like my life is over, like I’m a hundred years old when I’m only 26. I’m supposed to be excited and happy by life. I’m supposed to have goals, something to work towards. I don’t. The last time I can remember being truly happy was when I was 10. I mean really happy not the sort of pretend happy that you do just so you can look normal.
I’m tired of feeling like I’m not good enough. I’m tired of hating myself. I’m tired of being lonely, but being scared of the people around me.
I’m tired of not understanding friendship or love. I understand the theory.
Do you know what it’s like to have your own mother tell you that she loves you, but it actually makes you want to hide somewhere away from everyone because you really can’t grasp why she would? I don’t understand what there is about me that is worth loving. My self-esteem is so low that I believe it’s because I’m her daughter and that’s the only reason. I don’t understand love my brain just can’t comprehend it.
Friendship. Never in my entire life have I been someone’s best friend. I had some friends that I tried to be close to, but that never worked out. I was the last on the list friend, the one that gets called when everyone else is unavailable. Friends laughed at me cruelly, some physically hurt me, lulled me into the comfort of friendship only to use it against me, betrayed me and used me.
How can I want these things but not understand them? How do you even get them if you don’t know what they are?
Why can’t just one person make me feel special? Why can’t I just be happy?
Aspergers…I’m an adult with Aspergers. Which pretty much means you get told you’ve got it and then you’re thrown in the deep end and told to swim.
Chances are that my life is as good as it gets.
I don’t want to try anymore. I’m sick of trying and failing.
I haven’t blogged in awhile. If there is anyone in the world who actually looks forward to these blogs, which I seriously doubt, apologies for the absence.
Things have been pretty awful. Nothing awful has happened to me. My mind has been an awful place, which in turn makes life pretty awful.
I had thought that things would be better once I had a diagnosis. For a little while it was. I had a grasp of the problem and a plan to solve it. I had some semblance of hope for a little while. This has now gone. The plan that I was so longing for is fizzling out before my eyes. Once again I am in the place where I’m unable to help myself and can’t find someone else to help me. I found a place about 45mins from where I live which does the DBT/CBT/Schema Therapy I require. I’ve called them several times. Only to be met with various different problems. We’re waiting for more people to sign up for the program, we’ll contact you in a few weeks. This was the beginning of June. I call and leave messages and now the lady who runs the program won’t return my calls or isn’t in when I try to contact her again.
Sometimes I think that if people thought I was worthwhile, they would actually help me. I think that if was more, they would think that I had potential or like me and help me get better.
Doesn’t anyone realise how hard it is not to give in to the suicidal thoughts I have? I try so hard not to give in, for my Mum’s sake and for my dog. But I’m beginning to lose that rationale. It’s beginning to matter less and less. I’m getting tired. I can’t keep doing this. Not when everyday is so hard. Not when my attempts to get real help are shot down. I even spent time today thinking about what I’d write in my fucking suicide note.
Why is it that the brain that saw me get into the best law school in the country and succeed there (at least for a little while) won’t let me be happy? Why won’t it just let me live?
I can’t…what am I supposed to think when attempting to kill myself seems like a good idea if it means that I’ll get help?
Maybe I can’t be helped, maybe that’s why I’m not better yet. Maybe this is as good as its going to get. If it is well…I promise to at least blog you all a goodbye before I actually do attempt or succeed at suicide. Which is not tonight.
In the never ending search for a diagnosis, I’ve been seeing a psychiatrist via Skype. Since I live in the country/coast and at least two hours from a reasonably sized city, access can be a problem. I spent months travelling two hours one way to see a psychiatrist whom to the best of my knowledge wasn’t even making notes or sending reports to my GP. Which makes me angry. I wasted my time talking to him. Wasted months waiting for him to help me in some way. I’m sure that anyone who suffers from a mental illness knows that getting help and talking to someone about it, is never easy. The doctor I was seeing via Skype was brilliant she did more for me in three sessions that my previous doctor did in three months. She was so understanding (but not in the condescending, “I understand” way), kind and helpful.
Back to the original intent of this post…This new doctor suggested a diagnosis that no one has suggested to me before. Borderline Personality Disorder and Complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. After research BPD makes a lot of sense to me. I have most of the symptoms, some which aren’t expressed in the traditional sense. Since I tend to be emotionally closed and most of my feelings are only expressed inwardly. PTSD or C-PTSD is a somewhat confusing diagnosis. I haven’t suffered a trauma. I’ve read that it is possible to “forget” the trauma as part of a defence mechanism. There is a chance that this has happened. But if it has, can unconscious memory of a traumatic event enough to cause someone to express the PTSD symptoms? I don’t know. Maybe working on the BPD will assist with working through or discarding the PTSD.
So yes, this is me admitting that I now hold a ticket to the Borderline Personality Disorder party. I think that my Mum thinks that I should be upset by this. It’s confirmation that I’m not “normal” and that something isn’t right. But it’s more of a relief. I’ve known that I’m not like everyone else or different for a long time. It’s a relief to know that there is something wrong and it does have a name. It’s not just me being crazy or delusional. The problem has a name now. Which means that it can be solved or at least treated. Other doctors just couldn’t understand the simple logic of recognising and understanding a problem before attempting to fix it.
*Also if anyone in the Sydney or New South Wales area would like the details of the psychiatrist who helped me. Just leave a note in my ask box and I’ll pass on the information.*