Yesterday, I almost had a total breakdown. I just fell apart and I wanted to die more than I had up to that point. Actually, I didn’t want to die, as much as I just wanted the whole world to stop. I guess that could be the same as dying. My mom went ahead and dropped me off at A&M, and then she went home and called the Mental Health Center to see when they could see me. She wanted me to get in yesterday. They couldn’t see me until today.
So, I waited. I spent a lot of yesterday cuddled in pillows and stuffed animals on my dorm bed. I took a Klonopin about 30 minutes before I went to dinner and then I took another after I got back from dinner. It wasn’t just depression. It was anxiety, including the anxiety of standing in line and hallucinating like I have been doing. It was thinking I was hearing certain things, when I wasn’t. It was just a whole mess of things.
I hoped that sleeping would help make things better, but I still woke up in misery and pain. I went to classes today, and prayed that things would be okay until I got to leave. I found out that not only did I pass my Biology test, I got a 114 out of 100 possible points. I think I actually got the highest in the class. My teacher let us out really early, so I went ahead to the Social Work building. They’ve gotten rid of the couch, so I couldn’t go to sleep on it, so I sat on the floor and closed my eyes and tried to relax. Finally, the other class let out and I went into Social Work, where I saw the “abrasive” girl and I was reminded of something from yesterday and I was all-of-a-sudden quite angry and just feeling worse. I tried to calm myself down by ignoring her for the rest of the class and I think it worked. Then, I went to English, where my teacher just let us out because it was too pretty outside, so I had to wait in my dorm room for almost 40 minutes waiting for my mom to get up to A&M.
My mom brought me home and we waited a few minutes before going to the Mental Health Center, where I didn’t have an appointment. I got to wait while other people who had appointments went through intake and crisis counseling. I got to see a girl who was happier than anyone I’ve seen in recent memory who needed medicine for depression. She giggled when she saw that, after almost 3 hours of waiting, I was still sitting waiting, while she had gotten to go back after only 30 minutes of waiting. (She had an appointment.)
Eventually, I was seen. Jane thought I was another intake patient until I brought up that I had been through intake before. She asked me if I knew my diagnosis, and I said that the people at the MHC hadn’t told me what they thought was my diagnosis. She looked it up and said, “Major Depression and Borderline Personality Disorder”, which is interesting since that’s exactly what I put on my intake form. (I think they were lazy and just copied it and went with it.) We went through my symptoms and I told her about hallucinating. She asked an interesting question, “Have you ever seen or heard things when you weren’t depressed?” I told her when I was 18, 19 and 20 (which I still am, but I meant earlier when I was 20). Anyways…she set up an appointment for me to see the psychiatrist on Thursday because she wanted me to see him right away. I had to sign a No Harm Contract, which I detest doing. I think No Harm Contracts are unfair and shouldn’t be used. After I signed that, I was able to leave. She did encourage me to go to the hospital should things get worse. She also told my mother that I should probably stay at home (instead of the dorm) to sleep until I’m able to see the doctor.
On the ride home, I started thinking about her question about seeing things when I wasn’t depressed. I began to wonder what she meant by not depressed, so I asked my mom, “On a scale of 1-10, where would ‘not depressed’ fall?” She told me 1-3, so I realized something. In the past 4 years, I’ve never been below a 4 on the depressed scale. 4 is like the happiest I’m able to maintain. So, I started thinking, when was the last time I was truly happy? I got really depressed a few months before I turned 17, but I had started cutting a few months before. So, I kept thinking. I went a few years and I still couldn’t pinpoint any happiness. I got back to 8, and I remember how miserable I was and how that’s when I started poking ballpoint pens and forks in my skin. I couldn’t really remember anything before that, so I asked my mom about it. She said I didn’t have a happy childhood (from the time I was 8 on). I know why I was unhappy…my grandfather.
Oh, I wanted to rant about what the girl from my Social Work class did yesterday that upset me, and still upsets me. She is in my Health class and yesterday we were talking about depression and suicide. Well, my teacher brought up that men are able to kill themselves more often than women, though women attempt it more often. She asked why, and I pointed out that men used more permanent methods. So, my teacher mentioned that women usually slit their wrists or overdose. Well, the “abrasive” girl started mocking girls who do this and started making slashing motions on her arms and laughing and basically saying how pathetic she thought girls/women who did this were. I looked over at her and I was just seething. I was in pain, and seriously considering slitting my own wrists, and here this girl was mocking and laughing at people who had been through what I was going through. She was laughing at what people I’ve known have gone through. It just made me so angry, and when I saw her this morning, that anger rushed back to me.