Had I been told that a single sheet my therapist would give me could mess with my head this much I would never have believed it.
I know that this therapy contract is a formal thing that has to be done and that I should probably not even give it this much room. But the emergency chain in this document just sounds totally impossible to me: It’s okay for me to use skills, I can do that. But the next step is talking to a friend/my partner/a relative. I have never done that when I was under pressure. “I want to cut!” is not a sentence I’ve ever said to anyone. I don’t know how to get those words out and I also don’t know what the other person is supposed to do then. And now I have to reach out every single time it happens?!
I’m afraid that my partner will end up as my 24/7 social worker if I actually do that and I definitely won’t let that happen! How is he supposed to love me as an equal if I tell him all the sick thoughts?
Step number 3 is calling my therapist or even going to an ambulance. Also not going to happen! I just know that I wouldn’t. I’m too proud, I don’t think it’s bad enough, I want to do it on my own.
Next session I’ll talk to my therapist about this and I trust that she will explain everything to me in a way that makes me cope with this stuff. We will find a way.
This contract as well as the diary cards make me feel more ill than I’ve ever felt before. My partner reckons it’s a good thing when I see just how serious it is. He says I’m only getting on with life because I’m so disciplined that I stay in control somehow and I guess that’s true. On these diary cards I have to honestly assess things that I didn’t even view as problematic until now. When I read what I wrote on them I can see just how many things are going wrong inside my head. Showing my therapist will be difficult – I’m scared she might judge me and I don’t like being observed…
I do have friends who tell me they’re there but I would feel bad if I used them as heartache boxes. I’m afraid that people won’t believe me because I always seem to be under control so how are they supposed to imagine all this weirdness?
And please don’t get me wrong: I am infinitely grateful for the help I get. I realize it’s necessary, I am glad that I don’t have a therapist who is beating around the bush and I do want to get better. It’s just shocking for me that I am in need of this kind of help, that I need someone who observes my daily routine and wants me to reach out for help every single day. Until today I’ve always figured that I’m doing fine as long as I’m able to work and have a relationship. Now I feel like I have to re-assess everything about myself which is something I would have expected a few months into therapy but not this soon…I’m even a little embarassed by the diary cards on my desk – until now, mental illness was invisible. These sheets feel like a constant reminder that my illness can be made visible, that it’s real and that I have to give up a fair amount of my privacy in order to treat it.
Another thing that bothers me is that I can’t find a general practitioner who is seeing new patients. I don’t want to go to the doctor I’ve been to one and a half years ago because I could feel that he didn’t take me seriously at all. Many doctors have too many patients already and I don’t want to have a long way to go so my options are very limited…and no matter whom I will find, talking about BPD and therapy the very first time I go there won’t be fun…
Sorry if I come across whiny today, it’s just very much right now and my head feels like it’s spinning around with all the things that scare me. I know it’s going to be okay – I just can’t figure out the way there yet.