Sometimes it would be really nice to have someone to talk to, other than typing in what I'm thinking in this blog. If you're reading this, and you're wondering why I put all this personal stuff here, it's really because I don't have anybody to talk to.
I think that people reach a limit on how much they want to "listen" to someone else, especially if it does anything to upset their perception that everyone is happy. Maybe they just feel safer if they avoid being around sad people.
I have a confession to make. Back in the fall I was really thinking about killing myself. I had set one of my kitchen knives on the desk next to my keyboard and I kept thinking about using it. I was a little scared, and I had this weird feeling that it was going to bite me or something. I know. Weird. Probably not a good sign for my mental health.
I hadn't been sleeping more than a couple of hours each night, so in my overly tired condition, I overslept one morning. It wasn't a simple 10 or 15 minutes... I woke up at 8:15 and I was already 45 minutes late for work. Not even my dog woke up, and she'd been making very sure that I let her out every monring.
I managed to get ready for work in 5 minuts and leave the house. I'd been trying to call the school the whole time and let them know I was on my way, but late, but as luck would have it NOBODY was answering the phones in the school office. (Heaven forbid that someone in the school had an emergency with nobody answering the phones!)
I raced in to find two very scared co-workers and one fairly indifferent one. (They said that when they told her I was nowhere to be found, that she just shut her door.) I don't remember telling anyone what I'd been thinking about doing with the knife, but I must have because they (the two) freaked out, called the office and everyone else they could think of, and the school sent two of the coaches over to my house to see if something had happened to me. (One of them said they were going to break in if I didn't answer the door and my car was here. He also said that at least I knew someone cared enough to worry about me.)
They actually missed me at my house by a couple of minutes. I think we must have circled around each other on different streets. The bad thing is that my friends told the office that they were afraid I'd committed suicide, and that's why they were so hysterical. I'm still really sorry that I worried them, but there's absolutely nothing I can do to make it up to them for worrying them like that. They said it's okay, that they were just worried about me, but I still feel so guilty for putting them through that.
I really felt bad every day for a long time, and I guess that's why J asked the guidance counselor to talk to me. Well, I came completely unraveled and told her everything. She offered to find out who I could go and talk to on a regular basis that would be covered by our insurance, so I took her up on it.
I made an appointment for that Sunday, (in a city an hour and a half away, because I was worried the locals would start talking about me) and when I called to say that I was running late, they said, "Oh don't worry, if you're an hour late, two hours late, we're here 24 hours. Just make sure you have dinner before you come because we'll stop serving dinner in a little while."
Now that worried me. Dinner? She made it sound like I was going to be there all night. I didn't like the sound of that at all, and I told my sister so. She said I was paranoid, and that they probably tell that to everyone. Maybe it just takes a long time to get the paperwork and interview over with.
When I got there, they sent us to what they said was the "waiting room" until they got ready to talk to me. I noticed that the name on the door said "Dayroom" which means that it's where they let the patients see their families in. I didn't like that either. I mentioned it to my sister. She said I worry too much. I told her that no matter what anybody said, do not let them keep me here. She laughed at my paranoia good-naturedly.
After the nurse finished interviewing me, and I figured it would be best to tell her everything that is bothering me, so that they could find the right kind of counseling for me, she said that they were going to go ahead and admit me to the hospital that night. I said, no, I'm not staying here. She said, you need to stay here because anyone who talks about suicide wouldn't be safe to leave alone at home. I repeated that I wasn't staying there. We went back and forth on this for a few minutes, and I finally made her believe me.
So I didn't even get to see a doctor, because the doctor there wouldn't help me unless I let them commit me indefinitely. The nurse was starting to sound contemptuous when she asked me just what I was there for anyway. And I told her that I just wanted to get some regular counseling. She gave me a few numbers to call and let me leave.
Now I've gotten no help, nobody to talk to, and a serious fear that if I'm anywhere near a psych ward, they're going to lock me up in a padded room. Not only did it completely defeat the purpose of my going there, it's made me slide backwards a few steps. Trust is becoming a serious issue.
I think that people reach a limit on how much they want to "listen" to someone else, especially if it does anything to upset their perception that everyone is happy. Maybe they just feel safer if they avoid being around sad people.
I have a confession to make. Back in the fall I was really thinking about killing myself. I had set one of my kitchen knives on the desk next to my keyboard and I kept thinking about using it. I was a little scared, and I had this weird feeling that it was going to bite me or something. I know. Weird. Probably not a good sign for my mental health.
I hadn't been sleeping more than a couple of hours each night, so in my overly tired condition, I overslept one morning. It wasn't a simple 10 or 15 minutes... I woke up at 8:15 and I was already 45 minutes late for work. Not even my dog woke up, and she'd been making very sure that I let her out every monring.
I managed to get ready for work in 5 minuts and leave the house. I'd been trying to call the school the whole time and let them know I was on my way, but late, but as luck would have it NOBODY was answering the phones in the school office. (Heaven forbid that someone in the school had an emergency with nobody answering the phones!)
I raced in to find two very scared co-workers and one fairly indifferent one. (They said that when they told her I was nowhere to be found, that she just shut her door.) I don't remember telling anyone what I'd been thinking about doing with the knife, but I must have because they (the two) freaked out, called the office and everyone else they could think of, and the school sent two of the coaches over to my house to see if something had happened to me. (One of them said they were going to break in if I didn't answer the door and my car was here. He also said that at least I knew someone cared enough to worry about me.)
They actually missed me at my house by a couple of minutes. I think we must have circled around each other on different streets. The bad thing is that my friends told the office that they were afraid I'd committed suicide, and that's why they were so hysterical. I'm still really sorry that I worried them, but there's absolutely nothing I can do to make it up to them for worrying them like that. They said it's okay, that they were just worried about me, but I still feel so guilty for putting them through that.
I really felt bad every day for a long time, and I guess that's why J asked the guidance counselor to talk to me. Well, I came completely unraveled and told her everything. She offered to find out who I could go and talk to on a regular basis that would be covered by our insurance, so I took her up on it.
I made an appointment for that Sunday, (in a city an hour and a half away, because I was worried the locals would start talking about me) and when I called to say that I was running late, they said, "Oh don't worry, if you're an hour late, two hours late, we're here 24 hours. Just make sure you have dinner before you come because we'll stop serving dinner in a little while."
Now that worried me. Dinner? She made it sound like I was going to be there all night. I didn't like the sound of that at all, and I told my sister so. She said I was paranoid, and that they probably tell that to everyone. Maybe it just takes a long time to get the paperwork and interview over with.
When I got there, they sent us to what they said was the "waiting room" until they got ready to talk to me. I noticed that the name on the door said "Dayroom" which means that it's where they let the patients see their families in. I didn't like that either. I mentioned it to my sister. She said I worry too much. I told her that no matter what anybody said, do not let them keep me here. She laughed at my paranoia good-naturedly.
After the nurse finished interviewing me, and I figured it would be best to tell her everything that is bothering me, so that they could find the right kind of counseling for me, she said that they were going to go ahead and admit me to the hospital that night. I said, no, I'm not staying here. She said, you need to stay here because anyone who talks about suicide wouldn't be safe to leave alone at home. I repeated that I wasn't staying there. We went back and forth on this for a few minutes, and I finally made her believe me.
So I didn't even get to see a doctor, because the doctor there wouldn't help me unless I let them commit me indefinitely. The nurse was starting to sound contemptuous when she asked me just what I was there for anyway. And I told her that I just wanted to get some regular counseling. She gave me a few numbers to call and let me leave.
Now I've gotten no help, nobody to talk to, and a serious fear that if I'm anywhere near a psych ward, they're going to lock me up in a padded room. Not only did it completely defeat the purpose of my going there, it's made me slide backwards a few steps. Trust is becoming a serious issue.
posted by Me at 12:03 AM
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