I was supposed to see the psychiatrist again last Saturday but I purposely dodged it by going to school to help with the write-ups. I stopped taking the medications as well. They were making me feel very tired. I couldn’t get out of bed because I felt so weak. I felt really groggy. I had to make excuses whenever I was late for the supposed meeting with my group mates. I didn’t want to see the psychiatrist again because you and I have doubts about her from the very first moment I entered her clinic.
First, the numerous Catholic relics. I gave her a chance that time. Perhaps, she’s open-minded. But in the midst of our talk, she told me that I shouldn’t think about dying at such a young age because the talents “given” to me by god would be wasted. I was considering telling her that I’m Agnostic so I don’t necessarily believe that a deity has given me anything. When I first sat down across her to begin our talk, she asked me, “So, Adrienne, what’s wrong?”. I instantly remembered that TED Talks episode where Eleanor Longden said that the important question in psychiatry should not be, “What’s wrong with you?” but instead, “What’s happened to you?”. When I opened about existential crisis, she did not even know what that is. When it was over, I didn’t feel any better. I was wondering how she would be able to help me at all. Exulansis. I felt like it was futile to share what has happened to me because she won’t even be able to relate to it. I felt like it was tiring to tell a stranger about my experiences.
But I’m having second thoughts. I took a 2-hour nap when I got home after our mid-year class special problem presentation and I had a very troubling dream. I dreamed that I was on the edge of this really tall building and I felt like jumping. I can even feel it until now. I tried to seek help in that dream but instead I met another depressed person who fell into insanity. I woke up scared of that dream because it felt so real. I woke up scared because I’m afraid I’ll end up like that person in my dream.
To be honest, I’m just writing this now because I’m crying again for no apparent reason and I’m just really depressed when I should be happy since my mid-year class is already over (well, except for the papers). I’m writing this now because I know that I won’t be able to talk to anyone about these things.
As of writing, I’m imagining myself jumping off a bridge or a cliff. If tomorrow I don’t feel any better, I might just find one to jump off.