I hate this. The intensity of emotion this time has led me to bite the bullet, and name One Thing that has really been bothering me to the AMHT. The diagnosis of BPD has allowed me to pinpoint it, and to think that maybe I am not alone in my experience of it. Not weird. Symptomatic. And the AMHT are good. They reassure me. Calm me. They, and one other person I confide in, suggest I talk with the psychiatrist about it. It’s contributing to the suicidality; something she’ll be able to help me with.
On Tuesday, I go to the psychiatrist. She asks me how I am; tells me I am going to be going to emotion classes soon. This is news. I thought – well I thought she wasn’t so sure about that. Wrong again. And ten minutes after I get to her office she retrieves her diary, for next time. I feel pressed. I thought the appointment was longer – last time it was supposed to be longer. But I take a deep breath. Ask about the One Thing. She says not to try to change it. “Don’t throw away the life raft” she says. “It’s engrained.”. Her favourite word is engrained. She uses it to describe all my symptoms. “Wait till Complex Needs”.
“But it’s not a life raft, it’s a ruddy great brick”, I want to scream at her. She ends the appointment after twelve minutes. I feel small, and stupid, and helpless, and dismissed. And like I can never change, and would be better off dead than hurting people with this illness. God has disappeared.