I have another nice example of the way my head can get out of control.
My therapist wanted me to find a psychiatrist in order to have more possibilities in case of an emergency. This Thursday I had my appointment with one. As time had been short in the last session I’d had with my therapist I had been unable to ask her if there was anything specific I was supposed to say to the psychiatrist so I decided to write an email on Monday. My therapist always says that she answers emails within 24 hours which I don’t even consider necessary.
How my head made a mountain of a molehill:
I was cool when she didn’t answer right away on Monday. After all I had plenty of time. It was okay for me that she didn’t answer on Tuesday. I’d never thought the 24-hour rule was necessary in the first place. By Wednesday I got a little nervous. I checked and double-checked the email adress but it was correct. I asked my partner if he thought my therapist could have died and if another one would inherit me then. On Thursday my slightly obsessive nature made me search my therapist’s homepage in case I had the wrong email adress after all. And guess what: There was another one than the one I’d used before! I forwarded the original email and thought that she might have forgotten to tell me she’d changed the adress. No big deal, right? Things like that happen. No need to freak out. But borderline wouldn’t be borderline without a little drama and what was going on inside my head was this:
It’s obvious why she forgot to tell you. You are just not important enough. Maybe she even changed the email adress because of you. Why do you need to ask her about this anyway? Just chill out and do it on your own, you used to be able to do things on your own, remember? A few years ago you would never have been this needy and whiny and selfish. Even if she gets the email now she’s going to tell you she doesn’t want to work with you anymore very soon – if you are so clingy you deserve nothing less. The psychiatrist will think you’re really stupid as well if you don’t even know what to tell her. Just go, cut your thigh and be done with it. That used to work and would be much more independent than all this “reaching-out-for-help-bullshit”
I arrived at the psychiatrist’s office feeling completely out of my mind. In the waiting area I felt I had two options: Dissociation or Panic. I chose not to fight against drifting away; although I can fight it to some extent I felt that staring a little was more dignified than hyperventilating and crying in front of the other patients.
This story ends the way it has to: My new psychiatrist is the sweetest elderly lady in the world, warm-hearted, yet professional and clear. She listened to me, asked precise questions and didn’t judge. She took my reservations about psychotropic drugs seriously and didn’t try to force anything. Indeed she suggested trying some herbal products that can help me calm down when I panick or when my distress level is too high which seems like an awesome idea to me. I left her office feeling good and relieved.
When I came back home I had an email from my therapist who apologized for not answering – she still has her old email adress and thought she’d answered my request days ago. I feel so stupid about writing the second email and worry what she might think of me now.
Anyway, as I could have expected (and indeed have) everything went well. My rational mind had been aware that it would be okay all along but unfortunately what you know doesn’t always change what you feel and it can be so exhausting to fight whatever urges borderline brains to make mountains of molehills.
I do not want to judge psychotropic drugs in general. There are countless people who benefit from them and I am glad about that. However there is no drug specifically for borderline and I am not a fan of mere symptom treatment (unless it’s really inevitable, I have been glad about painkillers in the past!). My own bad experience with an antidepressant as well as a pill-addicted family member may also be reasons for my caution when it comes to medication. I feel very comfortable with the herbal products my psychiatrist suggested – I know that products like that can help a lot and the worst thing that can happen is that I end up as a passion flower junkie 😀
I don’t even know what I want to say with this post, it just seemed a like good example for illustrating how thoughts can spiral out of control and how the knowledge that everything’s okay doesn’t always help – especially when you have a brain like mine.