Wednesday, July 25, 2012

Maybe I quit therapy too soon?

I've been going through a tremendously bad time the past few days. I can't seem to get my equilibrium back, even though I'm back on my BC pill.

I have learned over the years not to call my mother wanting sympathy or understanding. It's not that she doesn't mean well, it is just that she doesn't understand at all (but thinks that she does), and that she is so needy herself.

So today she called to tell me about all of her problems and the ongoing problems of everyone living in her household (Grandma's house) - now up to 5!. She needs someone to talk to, and I can't always deal with it. I was particularly unsympathetic today, and cut the conversation short. I think she needs a therapist.

When I think about the last time that I saw my therapist, it was weird. I wasn't even sure that I wanted to quit therapy. Maybe I thought I'd reduce the frequency, or change the forcus, or something. I went in and said that I was re-thinking therapy. Thinking that we would talk about it. But which she took as me saying that I was quitting- she asked me why- I told her that the past two sessions I really had not felt like I had anything I needed to say, and that I wanted to focus on studying. And then she thanked me for coming in to tell her, and told me that she wouldn't charge me for today- and asked her if there was anything she had done or said wrong,etc.

So it is a strange situation.

I did something so strange today- I accidentally took my nighttime meds in the AM. So I went to work on 5mg of Zyprexa. Not fun. Fortunately, no sleeping pill in the mix- not that it has been working too well. I did manage to make it through the day, but it was a struggle. But maybe it helped me to be more mellow. No tears today. And then I came home and napped. Maybe, though, this double dose of Zyprexa is just what I needed to get me out of whatever I have gotten into these past few days. I do feel less crazy today. But it is not something I want to repeat.

I have definitely wanted someone to complain to the past few days- just like my mom. But then to talk about a work issue too. Is it better to be though crazy, lazy, or incompetent? I mean, being mentally ill is not an excuse for not getting your work done- you are still responsible for it, and you can still get fired if you don't do your job. But at the same time, it is an explanation. I tried going in this past weekend, I got myself there, I just couldn't keep myself together- I was feeling too crazy. And perhaps that truth is better than people thinking that I just don't care. Or maybe not.

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