My Appointment

I got to write about today but try not to judge me ok? I see a psychiatrist. Not often...Maybe once every three months. Just to keep an eye on me supposedly.
Well this past few weeks have been hard. I've been ok, but stuff like my memory and my anxiety levels have raised a lot. I knew I had an appointment coming up and people around me seemed to be glad. I think they felt I needed to talk.
I usually get anxious prior to these appointments. I dislike dragging stuff up. I don't like getting upset. I like to try to stay calm. Anxious gets me upset. Upset has consequences for me and my girls. They feel it. I take ages to recover.
But today I was strangely ok. I've seen him before. He's calming and in control. He seems to understand. He has a way about him. I wanted to tell him stuff.
So I go. I was calm. I took pictures of the boats by the car park. It was sunny. I walked round the old forbidding building. There's a defunct fountain outside with gargoyles on it. I thought about how inappropriate it was. Those gargoyles were grotesque.
I went in. Signed the book. I hate putting my name in there. That's the book that says Trinity comes here because she needs help. They have my name.
I saw my doctor. He smiled. Then a woman called me. Come this way she said. I didn't know who she was. She said I was to see her today.
I asked her who she was. She was a junior doctor but she was a junior psychiatrist. I was still ok with that.
She asked me how I was.
I hate that question. How am I? Well how AM I? How do you explain to a woman you've never met before, who doesn't know you from Adam how I am?
I don't know how am actually. I didn't say that. I said I was worried. I told her that work was worried about me a bit. My anxiety levels, my inability to let go. My memory and concentration.
Actually, I lost it a bit when I told her about the control thing. I got upset and tried to stem it.
She ignored it. She asked what tablets I was on. She asked why I hadn't reduced them yet. I got confused. My Doctor told me to stay on the same dose last time. She said when I left psychiatric hospital they told me to reduce the dose.
I began to freak inside. I have NEVER been in a psychiatric hospital but she was adamant and part of me doubted myself (silly cow I am)
She said I wasn't depressed and hadn't been so for some time. So I needed to come off the meds.
I told her I was up and down a lot. Sometimes I can be up and down in cycles throughout the same day. It's very wearing.
So she surmised. As she could see, I was a bit up and down ...But did I know that everyone gets a bit up and down now and then? Plus she could tell I lacked energy at times.
I tried to tell her about the money spending.... She said that was silly. I have to stop buying stuff but that it was perfectly normal. Lots of people get themselves a little boost from shopping.
I have no idea which part of it really started the roll. But I began to feel insecure, I picked up my bag and kept opening it. Looking at my car keys. I told her she was making me feel bad, a loser. She said she certainly wasn't doing that.
I stood up and said I have to leave and burst into tears of frustration and resignation. No-one understands. How could they. It's hopeless it's all totally hopeless. I flew out in a flurry of tears and sobs. Hard hopeless sobs. Pathetic really, totally pathetic trinity. As usual, crap me can't even talk to a doctor.
I couldn't get out of the locked front door, someone released the catch and I left. I sobbed all the way to the car. I got in and sat there for ten minutes crying. I thought about driving over the edge into the water (yep fucking stupid I know)
then I drove home. I cried at Abby and she told me not to go there again. She doesn't like them, they made me cry.
But after I calmed down, my mind turned once again to being a nurse.
Now where is the caring face of the NHS. Someone leaves your room distressed and crying. No one came after me to check I was ok...Well ok they're busy.
But no-one called to check I got home ok or find out what was wrong.
What's the point? I don't know. I guess this is my bed and I have to lie on it. Wash the sheets, plump up the pillows and try to make the best of it.
Can't afford a new headboard lol.
I don't ever want to go back there again. But was it my fault? Did I over react again? Am I stupid?
Maybe.