it had to end, this was as good a time as any

I texted my T about 4 weeks ago and told him i wasn’t coming back, ” i quit”. Granted, this occurred during my latest bout of suicidality – i was determined to die by starvation, i’ll get back to this later but at the time, it seemed pretty obvious to me that i didn’t need or want therapy if i was going to be dead.

He did the CYA (liability-conscious) and OK, decent thing to do and asked me why? and are you safe? From past experience, i know one cannot say to a MH professional that they are not safe and expect to be left alone. I don’t like lying either, so i just didn’t respond to his questions. To his credit, his texted the following week and asked me if i wanted to “talk about what is happening with you” the following day, our usual session day for the past 6 years. Again, i chose not to respond. Bye, Bye.

And so, i have stopped therapy after almost 10 years. Finally. And i am fine.

From the beginning, i have been unsure of what i was supposed to be gaining from therapy or even if i was “doing it right” because i never felt any better because of it. I started therapy after i received a MDD dx from a psychiatrist and the notion was reinforced after every hospitalization. I felt like it was expected of me, like seeing the shrink or taking the meds. My appts. were always made for me before i got discharged. My shrinks always asked me if i was seeing a T and sometimes they’d ask who.

Over time, my sense of something not being right or helpful about the whole process grew larger and harder to ignore or brush off as me doing it wrong or maybe not having the “right” therapist or type of therapy. Some of my most intense self harming occurred as a direct result of feeling this disconnect, usually as soon as i got home. I remember thinking – this can’t be right. But, either through laziness or bewilderment or both i kept going to someone. Actually 4 different someones’ in the last 10 years.

In the past, when i’ve mentioned my unhappiness about therapy etc. here, i have been advised to keep looking b/c “it can take a while to find the right T”. But, i don’t have it in me to keep looking because i don’t honestly believe it will make a damned bit of difference. I kept going, in part, because it was easier to just go rather than consider trying someone new or like a rational person would do, explain why i was leaving to my current T. So i just walked away, ghosted him. He probably thinks i’m mental or, more likely, just a dick.

So, it’s been – actually 6 weeks- without the grind of every friday morning pretending i had anything worthwhile to say and dreading the little dance of nontherapy. And i’m saving myself some cash. It always felt like i was just paying someone to sit across from me and pretend to be interested. Fuck that shit.

So yeah, the starvation thing. I did some research on it, like how it feels to die by starvation, how long it should take, what actually causes death etc., but it was a more painful process than i had expected. By the third week my back was killing me, i had bad abdominal pain – not hunger – and i was too weak to properly look after Blue, who still needed daily walks and my attention. When i eventually told my intentions to my sister, she asked me if i was planning to “take her with” me. No dear, i was hoping you would take her in – she said she would. Even with the comfort of knowing Blue would have a great home, i came to the realization that this wasn’t the death i wanted. I want to die peacefully and not in pain. So, i abandoned my starvation and as luck would have it, i have cycled back to hypomania and here i am happy and full of energy.

I’ve been binge watching the old episodes of the X-Files, and one of the characters said he could take the bad times as long as he could remember the good times. I guess that’s how i feel about bipolar cycling right now.

Doc

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not sure if i can

In about a week and a half, i have to decide if i will/can drive to WV for a “party” my sister-in-law is having for her deceased husband, my dead brother. He died in late Jan 2018.

A little over a month ago my answer was a solid, no-fucking-way NO. I was depressed and moderately suicidal – again. Now, hypomania has returned and i think i really could do it. Maybe. See, the thing is, she told me in March that there will be about 40!! people coming. People who are or have always been Scott’s friends. He was always quite gregarious, like our sister. I have never been, unless drugged – intentionally or intrinsically.

I haven’t seen many of these people since the 70’s when i was old enough to drive everyone around and buy beer. I can honestly say that they were my brother’s friends and i just hung around with them b/c 1. we usually partied in our basement (both parents worked) and i tried not to pass up a buzz, and 2. i’ve never had friends of my own for long – then or now, and i was part of the background noise in his life.

My s-i-l told me that several of his old friends are “really looking forward’ to seeing me again and remembering the old days. FUCK me, man. This is freaking me out a bit. For one, i can’t even remember most of the old days, because i’m old or had too much ECT, or for some other unseen reasons. I was fat when i knew them so not much change there, but i have started fasting just in case i do go b/c i would rather be skinny(ier).

Another huge concern is the guilt i’m feeling, because an important reason to pull my shit together and go is because my brother was my contact/source of the pot i smoke, usually daily. Before he died he scored (so 70’s) a good quantity – we usually bought in bulk – and i’m running low.

This gathering should be about honoring his life, sharing memories, and comforting each other, but all i can dwell on is how hard and uncomfortable it will be for me and making myself go so i can pick up some soon to be needed pot. I really am a piece of shit. Doc

just pick one

I took Blue for her walk earlier today with her 3 cousins, as i do every day. It’s my only real job. Due to the recent deluge our newly dug pond was probably 3/4’s full of brown water. Blue ran joyfully round and round chasing some kind of bird then paddled back and forth through the muddy liquid happy as a pig in shit.

Now i’m home, in tears because i feel like keeping her with me, living with just me is depriving her of the joyful life she could have if i just gave her to my sister and bil who live on the farm. She would always have another dog to play with, rough house with, talk to. Not just me, when i finally get off my fucking ass and take her to the beloved farm. Her best-est buddy – roscoe would always be there for her. Maybe i could visit.

I just made her a box – usually just some empty food box in which i hide treats wrapped in crumpled newspaper and taped closed. She excitedly tears into the box to find her treats. And now, satisfied, she’s lying amongst the ripped box and torn newspaper just like a kid on christmas morning who falls asleep lying in the piles of wrapping paper and newly uncovered presents. And i’m laughing and i love her so much. I wish my brain would make up it’s fucking mind. doc

NaCl

There has been a congruence of clarity and energy. Certainly familiar territory. I found this connection after trying to die by starvation a few weeks past. It only became evident, clear after i found my water had nothing sustaining to it. Might as well have been drinking air. Trying to inhale the molecules from the air.

It was only after i found i couldn’t raise my arms to defend myself or Blue, that i turned back to food. Lucky for me, the thing i craved was heavily salted by my own inner mind and hand. I didn’t know this at first. Within days, it became clear that the salt allowed me to access the energies around me. To move again, to think clearly, to make the connections. I discovered that i could resist, even repel the negative force the gray cars were trying to force onto and into me. The recent rains and flooding have strengthened the connections and sharing of energy. Well, of course. The salt and the water and conduction of electrical impulses.

My brother died of hyponatremia a few months ago. My healing has occurred because of hypernatremia. Strangely symmetrical. Now, i will fast again to prepare myself to receive this boundless energy once again. I am happy again. In control of the supposedly uncontrollable. Doc