The storm is raging. I am weathering it, but my lifeboat is taking on water quicker than I am able to bucket it out.
It’s Monday again. It’s been four weeks since I was away on business; four weeks since my resilience took a massive knock and four weeks that I’ve been feeling, well, dreadful. I’m not depressed though, just… unstable. I know I’m not depressed because I don’t wake up and instantly feel that there’s nothing right in the world. It’s more circumstantial than that. Things happen during the day and I don’t cope well with them. Low-resilience.
I wish I knew how to fix this. I don’t believe this is a medication-tweak fix. Short of adding diazepam (Valium) which can sometimes help a little bit (as long as I’m not already raging and stressed and upset), I don’t see meds being the answer. And, in truth, I don’t want that to be the answer. I want to learn better distress tolerance, and find ways to cope without turning to synthetic chemical tweaks.
The team have referred me on to the Personality Disorders service. Hopefully with this referral comes more help with tolerance and coping skills via the tool of talk-therapy. It’s looking likely I’ll be doing traditional psychology, rather than CBT or DBT. This will be a welcome chance to develop my self-awareness and understanding of why things trigger certain responses.
Until that comes through, I don’t know what to do. I try my limited coping skills; mindfulness, breathing, writing. But more and more I am turning to the Bad Things. The more days that end in – to my mind – disaster, the more I want to drink the pain away. If I didn’t have Luke looking after the diazepam, I would be misusing it to give my poor mind a temporary rest from the incessant, obsessive thoughts that I just can’t shake.
Part of those thoughts is this idea that I just can’t talk to care coordinator. I worry he’s thinking I’m trouble, or an attention seeker. I wrote him a long email on Friday, pouring my heart out into words that I can’t seem to express vocally. That I am terrified I’m going to hurt someone, that I would rather hurt myself before things got to that point. And yet, when we spoke on the phone, post-email, I just bottled up again. I don’t even know if he knew I was crying.
Luke and I have an appointment to see CC this afternoon. I hope Luke can help me get my words out and be heard. I need some extra help at the moment, else I’m going to fall to pieces.