Dead fish, new therapist

Well, I fucking knew it.  All my remaining fish (3) died overnight.  WTF?  How hard should it be to keep 3 lousy fish alive and happy?

I shouldn’t be allowed around any animals.

Their deaths have triggered my guilt and shame about contributing to the death of my dear dog, Willow, 3 years ago.  She became overweight (my fault), developed knee problems because of the excess weight (my fault), and subsequently died of kidney failure secondary to the anti-inflammatory medication I gave her for the pain (my fault).

I’m a freaking vet. for Christs’ sake and  i can’t even keep 3 wee fish from croaking, let alone my precious companion.  I SUCK.  I SUCK.  I FUCKING SUCK.  I should drown myself in the tank.

 

 

Yesterday afternoon I met a new therapist – D.   Kinda laid back (good), looks like an ex-hippie (long ponytail, a bit chubby), has painted his office green and orange (odd), and used the F word once during our chat (good to know).

As it was our first meeting, we spent time getting to know each other.  He denied using any recording devices in the room.  I think I believe him.

We touched on “how do you like Doc?”, “what makes you happy?”, do I ever talk to myself in the mirror? -ah no, D –  he does.   He referred to other clients of his as examples – “I have clients who are suicidal 90% of the time so I don’t call the police at the mention of suicidal ideation” (great, likely to come up).  He wants to review the medical records of my most recent suicide attempt before next time (bound to be highly entertaining – not).

He told me I am “an enigma”, that he usually has a “feeling about people by now”.  Hmmm. I’m as transparent as stained glass.  I guess an enigma is an OK thing to be.

At the end, he asked me if I wanted to come back.  “Yea, sure.”  Then he asked “frequency?” and all I could think of was urinary tract infections (why does he want to know if I have a UTI?), then I figured out he meant how often did I want to see him.  Duh.

He asked me what I thought therapy was about.  Don’t really know but “I guess it’s to help you learn to suffer graciously.”

So, for now, I guess I have a new therapist. My next appt. is in 12 days at 7 am.  Who can think or speak intelligently at that time of day?  I’ll just stay up all night.

I did, at least, go to the appt. straight although it might have been hard to tell as I stumbled through the hallway to his office, forgot my insurance card, and had trouble following his train of thought at times.   I have gone to therapy appts. stoned before.  One of my former therapists said I talked more when I was.  Probably best to wait a while before he meets that me.

That’s all i want to say. I need to go flush 3 fish down the loo.  Boo.             Doc.

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I’m trying

Morning,

Saw the orthopedic surgeon yesterday (really, that was just yesterday? – seems like days ago) and we are both happy with my hands’ progress. I have better range of motion and sensation is slowly returning to the fingers of my right hand.  “Rate your improvement on a scale of 1 to 100, with 100 being normal”.  “Well, i’d say 70 percent normal”.   “Good”, he says smiling.  I am supposed to resume physical therapy now.

Forced myself out of bed and drove 1 hour north to ride one of my sisters’ horses yesterday. I also had to drop off my bills for her to pay from my social security disability acct..  ! 2 activties in one day!  Seemed to satisfy my brother-in-law and sister that i was “engaging” in life. I didn’t want to tell them that i’ve stopped the morning meds. completely now.  Can’t deal with their disapproving faces. But it’s been three days or so without them and i am more awake than i was.  Granted, Wolf is still whispering to me, especially at night.  “She should die”.  Who is he talking to?

I feel the urge to “do something”, but i don’t know what to do.  Wolf wants me to break my arm.  I’ve tried to before using a chunk of firewood, but only bruised it. I could claimed this kind of injury was an “accident”, avoiding the bad looks and questions that would invariably arise. I am considering an overdose or trying to cut an artery in my left arm.  I’ve looked up the anatomy of the human forearm and believe i can do a “proper” approach to the artery without missing the vessel or cutting a nerve.  I am ambivalent about obeying him.  I think an overdose or bleeding would be better. Again, cutting will be harder to explain to everyone.  But i know me and once a decision is made i must follow through.

What would happen if i told “someone” about these urges?  Would i end up back in the hospital? On a locked ward again?  DON’T want THAT.  Bettter to keep quiet for now.  Besides, i already know how i could sneak a scalpel in with me.  So, i wouldn’t be “safe” there anyway.

What people don’t understand is i MUST do one of these.  Failure to obey or placate Wolf  WILL  lead to someone in my family being hurt again. I cannot take that chance.

My insurance company – Blue Cross/Blue Shield (BCBS) has been calling me since my recent discharge.  They have a psychiatric nurse trying to engage me and “see how you are doing”.  I am very concerned about this.  I couldn’t pick up the phone and talk to him recently because i had a previous experience with BCBS nurses calling the police and having me taken into custody, spending a week in the hospital after one of the callers took umbrage with a comment i had made to her about a recent gun purchase so i could “keep my options open”.  They didn”t get that i feel better knowing i have a way out.  Like the time i stopped smoking cigarettes and found comfort in knowing i had put an extra pack on top of the ‘fridge, just in case.

It’s so hard to know how much to disclose.  So, i just didn’t answer his calls. I think it will be better to keep my mouth shut.

The police, it seems, have been involved with every one of my involuntary (they all were) admissions since this nightmare started 3 years ago.  Not unexpectedly, i have developed a sincere and deep fear of them.  Every cop car passing is looking at/for me. They even managed to implant a microchip in me to keep track.  I had to surgically remove it and after my recent apprehension i fear they managed to implant another.  I haven’t found it yet but will remove it and destroy it once i do.

I can’t believe it has been 2 years since i’ve worked.  What the FUCK have i been doing?  I cannot remember.  I have been working since i was 15 years old.  How can 2 years be gone?  I didn’t notice.  I also know that my memories of my  teen and 20/30’s are gone or scrambled.  I can’t even picture places or routes or remember people i once knew quite well.  Someone/something has erased them.  ECT anyone? I feel empty and lost. Why would anyone want or take my thoughts and memories?

I did break down and scheduled an appt. with a new therapist, another social worker, not a psychologist like my last one. In fact, the appt. is with the same guy who had me certified 3 weeks ago for my admission.  First man i’ve chosen to try.  Despite what he did, he seemed nice enough and agreed to see me.  Perhaps a man will be easier to talk to about my abuse . He asked if my abuser had “done any jail time” and seemed geniunely saddened when i said no. My appt. is June 4.

I did go out and see a movie.  Dark Shadows with Johnny Depp.  It was OK.  I like him(he is so cute) and i liked Helena Bonham Carter as the doctor Julia, but the plot was odd.  The visual/special effects were good, but i can only give it a “fair” rating. I can’t exactly say what i was expecting but they did try to cram a lot of story lines in the film not from the original series and it threw me off.  Like young Caroline as a werewolf.  I also had uncomfortable (to say the least) feelings when they showed Victoria getting unsedated ECT as a child.

I just texted my sister to have good luck today at her barrel race. Please take care and don’t get hurt again.  But i couldn’t tell her that Wolf may be gunning for her because of my failure to obey his demand yet.  That would not be fair to her.  I will have to wait and hope for the best and her continued safety. I hope he doesn’t retaliate. Perhaps i should appease him now.

Going for a smoke and a think.      Doc.

Addendum:  I’ve done it.  I have bled.  Perhaps he’ll be happy now and my little sister will be safe today.

Yet again.

I’m back home after a week of inpatient (not my idea) psych. care.  I must say that this time wasn’t the nightmare of last fall, mainly because the sadistic shrink who “took care” of me then has mercifully moved on.  One of the nurses said she remembered how we “butted heads” and that both of us were “so damned stubborn”.  Stubborn – me?  Never.

I am sorry to have caused such drama around here. Drama involving police dogs, the state police helicopter and the local police dive team.  Apparently, one of the search and rescue dogs tracked me onto one of the piers on the river.  Drama that wasn’t my idea.

Currently, trying to find a way to sleep.  I think the new meds are screwing with my brain and keeping me UP.  Luckily -? – I have an appt. with Dr. S’nG tomorrow and i had to promise to get a new therapist in order to secure my release.  So many people have so many plans for me.  They had better remember that i have FINAL approval of any and all plans. Dog(s), school, yoga, activities, blah, blah, blah.  “Don’t just say you’ll do it, actually do it”.  Fuck off.

Actually, yoga might be OK.

It seems my last firearm was confiscated while i was away.  I remember hiding it here in the house, but it’s GONE.  What will i do now when the bad guy is trying to get in?  Shout loudly at him?  I need to think.

Doc.