Well, when my mom came to pick me up this afternoon (since the crisis counselor didn’t want me staying at the dorm until I saw the psychiatrist), she told me some very good news. My dad, after two-and-a-half years, finally got a full-time job. He’s going to be working as a security guard at a local hospital. I’m glad he got a full-time job. It’ll hopefully be more stable than having a temporary part-time job. At least it will have benefits, like insurance, and a bit more pay.
Chelsea, nothing happened to my grandfather. I mean, he died and had lots of diseases, but that was later. What happened with my grandfather was something that happened to me. We moved in with him when I was 8, and my problems started pretty soon after that. He was emotionally/verbally abusive towards me, telling me that I would never have a boyfriend because I was so fat, that I was ugly, that I had no morals, etc. He would tear me down and it really got to me. I was going through some of the same things at school, so hearing it from people at school and then hearing it at home was just too much. I started believing it, and I still do to some extent. I’ve never had a boyfriend and I don’t know whether its because I was fat so they didn’t like me or because my self-esteem was so low that they didn’t want to be with me or if it was some other reason. I’ve never really had the courage to ask either.
As for being under Satan’s control, I don’t think I am. I respect that you think I am, but I don’t blame anyone for my depression, anxiety, and hallucinations. They’re a part of my biology. I got them from my family. I don’t think God would do this to me, and I don’t believe that Satan is doing it to me. It’s just one of those genetic cards that I was dealt. I have to live with it, and I accepted that a long time ago. Also, while I don’t follow Christianity in the sense that I don’t go to church every weekend or I’m not right-wing or anything like that, I am a Christian. I am a liberal Christian, but I’m still a Christian.
Anyways…I’m partially looking forward to my psychiatrist appointment tomorrow. I would be completely looking forward to it if I believed that he would actually pay attention to what was wrong and would help me. I don’t, though. I think he may not listen to me, and I think that may be because my chart reads “Borderline Personality Disorder”. I know that doctors and therapists sometimes look at Borderlines as attention-seeking drama queens who don’t really deserve their time. I’ve had people treat me differently because I was diagnosed with BPD. Maybe the doctor will listen, though.
I didn’t tell my roommate that I wouldn’t be there tonight. I didn’t know exactly how to tell her. How do you say to someone that you’re not supposed to be “left alone” because you’re crazy? All that she knows is that I have depression and that I spend a lot of time in the bed when I’m not in class or at the cafeteria. I haven’t told her the extent of my problems, and I don’t want to tell her. I don’t want to be kicked out of the dorm or have her leave or have her treat me like I’m some psychotic freak. I may feel like a psychotic freak, but that doesn’t mean I want to be treated like one.