Am I a Monster?

Hi everyone. I’ve been struggling really badly once again. Nearly three weeks ago, I had an outburst that caused the second staff so far at this home to request to the team manager that she not be required to support me for a while. This staff used to be one of my three assigned staff. Another was a student and has since left this home to continue her education at the intensive support home I used to live at. The third one is still my assigned staff, but she only works a day or two a week.

With the staff who previously requested to not support me for a while, I’ve since talked things over, though she still refuses to be honest about the thing that got me to be angry with her, ie. her using literally every opportunity to assign me a temp worker. Because of this, I’ve felt like I had to apologize for my anger (which I see is necessary) but she wouldn’t have to apologize for or explain her behavior that upset me. With the current staff, I don’t have this issue, but I do mistrust her for having pretended to have talked it over then decided she couldn’t handle it anymore a few days later.

I realize part of the problem is my attachment anxiety. As a result of this, I mistrust people who try to come close and be there for me, because I know that if they truly knew me, they’d reject me. Which is, of course, true in theory at least: no-one in life is there for anyone else unconditionally. And, given that I sometimes don’t know who I truly am, I worry that I’ll be worse than even I can imagine if I let my guard down.

Of course, it’s also a self-fulfilling prophecy, as you can see from the fact that two staff in the past year have already rejected me. The current one even claimed she wouldn’t.

Even if I’m in the midst of severe self-doubt, I am (almost) certain that I won’t become physically violent if I let my guard down. The problem is that words hurt too, and I can unfortunately say quite nasty things even without meaning them. I mean, there’s been one instance, back at the intensive support home, when I hurt someone’s feelings with a literal personal attack: I said that it was her fault that she got hurt during a fellow client’s outburst. This staff never requested to not support me anymore. With the two who so far did here, my comments weren’t intended as they came across and, while they could literally be seen as hurtful, I didn’t mean them personally and had no bad intentions whatsoever.

I struggle intensely with this knowledge, that I don’t intend to hurt people but that I do it nonetheless. I also struggle to figure out a way to stop this. After all, they are not insults that caused these staff to reject me (though I called them both bad names too). If they were the insults, it’d be doable to erase these from my vocabulary, as I’ve mostly successfully done with certain other words. However, like I said, they were their interpretations of my comments about how they don’t know me that hurt their feelings. This is harder for me to process, as it means being aware of every possible interpretation of something I literally say. This is quite hard for me as an autistic person with virtually no cognitive empathy.

Besides, as I now realize, I probably have low emotional empathy too, as I wasn’t able to predict that the staff was just going through the motions when I thought we’d talked things over. She in fact supported me through an intense movement therapy session and I didn’t pick on her struggling at all. This makes me feel even worse than the fact that I didn’t realize at the time that my words were hurtful.

This low emotional empathy realization makes me feel like I’m a monster. Aren’t autistics supposed to have high emotional empathy? Aren’t psychopaths and narcissists the ones with low emotional empahty? I mentioned possibly being a narcissist to my wife and she denied I am. Then again, aren’t narcissists masters at making their loved ones believe they are the victim? Is all this my attachment anxiety talking, or is there some truth to the idea that I don’t deserve to be supported?

Therapy, Counseling and Coaching for Mental Health and Personal Growth #AtoZChallenge

Hi everyone. Today for my letter T post in the #AtoZChallenge, I want to talk about therapy and other forms of support when you’re dealing with mental health problems and/or when you want to grow as a person.

Generally speaking, therapy isn’t for personal growth, although as a person you may grow when overcoming mental health problems. What I mean by this, is that your therapist isn’t just a sounding board and they aren’t your friend. If you’re feeling pretty good overall, formal therapy at least here in the Netherlands isn’t what you should be looking for. After all, therapy is aimed at helping you, in as little time as possible, to overcome your mental health problems. Here in the Netherlands, in fact, there’s a limit on the number of psychotherapy sessions you can get covered by health insurance. Of course, you could pay out of pocket for more, but if you’re reasonably well-adjusted, why should you?

Coaching and counseling are much more affordable and accessible because anyone can call themselves a counselor or coach. This also means that you’ll find coaches or counselors who align with almost any spiritual or psychological teaching. There are Enneagram coaches, for example, even though the Enneagram is actually nonsense. Did I, a person who frequently writes about herself as an Enneagram type 4, just say that? Yes, I did.

There are, of course, also coaches or counselors who do work within the framework of science-based psychology and education. For example, many people call themselves ADHD coaches and they do (I assume) have some knowledge of the current ideas surrounding ADHD.

Psychotherapy is, here in the Netherlands, often heavily protocol-based depending on your diagnosis or main problem. This is also what I’ve often found frustrating. Like, when I was diagnosed with borderline personality disorder, my psychologist wanted to do schema-focused therapy, but the modes and all that didn’t fit in with my experience of being plural.

At other times, therapy didn’t suit me because, while I sort of understood the theory, I wasn’t able to apply it in practice. This is why I eventually stopped doing dialectical behavior therapy.

I personally don’t do well with therapies that are merely focused on skill-building or that are primarily verbal (talk therapy). I have had the most success with art and movement therapies. I currently do movement therapy based on the Sherborne method. This is a sensory and attachment-based therapy approach. For example, today my therapist brought a multisensory tool called CRDL. When both of us touched the tool with one hand and touched each other’s hands or arms, the CRDL made different calming sounds. This is helping me regulate far better than any DBT skill helped me.

Play Therapy #SoCS

I had my first play therapy session on Wednesday. That is, I used to have play therapy when I was in elementary school. That was nearly 30 years ago though. Yikes, how time flies!

Anyway, I only had four sessions back then before the school holiday and apparently those were either enough or my parents didn’t consent to more play therapy. Not that they were paying, but oh well. My parents were very reluctant to agree to these first sessions anyway, because they were suspicious of anyone in the helping profession, including the play therapist. I wonder why, since the goal of therapy was that I not get angry as quickly anymore. I back then denied getting angry much at all. However, I did play with toy weapons all the time, threw out the purple-haired dollhouse figurines because people don’t have purple hair and tried to overflow the water tray. That might have been telling. Or not, since I don’t know whose initiative the toy weapons were.

I hated play therapy though, because I had to go to it during my favorite subject in school, biology. I wonder honestly what the point was.

Same now. I was initially told, back in February when I had the intake interview for therapy with two different therapists, that the type of therapy I’d get was called something like “differentiation therapy”. I filled in what I thought this meant and behaved in a way that I thought was consistent with this. I thought that the goal is to learn to identify different feelings, so this Wednesday I constantly named the attributes of the objects I played with. The therapist did note that I was adamant about which types of play-doh I liked or didn’t like, but she didn’t write anything about me constantly saying, for example, that the PlayMobil® figurine was giving its companion its left rather than right hand, etc.

I’m pretty sure I was trying to show off with this behavior. I’m now scared she’s going to think I’m far more capable of identifying feelings than I am. Or think I am. Or whatever. I hope we’ll get something out of play therapy this time around, unlike back in 1996 when I was ten.


This post was written for Stream of Consciousness Saturday (#SoCS), for which the prompt is “school”. I interpreted it loosely, because I really wanted to write about play therapy. I’m going to write an actual post on my first session later.

Gratitude List (March 9, 2024) #TToT

Hi everyone. This past week has been tough. I was going to write an update only to realize there’s no #WeekendCoffeeShare this week. I could do one on my own, but that’d just leave room for endless negativity. Instead, for this reason, I’m going to turn things around and do a gratitude post. As usual, I’m joining Ten Things of Thankful. I’m going to cheat a little and do this gratitude list for the past ten days so that I can provide a little update anyway.

1. I’m grateful for the night nurse on duty during the night of February 29/March 1. Like I said on February 29, I was intensely triggered by my intake interview for therapy. Though I tried to calm myself down, it didn’t work and I ended up self-harming after my staff had left by throwing boiling hot water over my leg. Thanks to the night staff and particularly the night nurse, who cooled the wound under the shower for over half an hour, I am left with superficial second-degree burns. The wounds still cover most of the front side of my upper leg, but I realize things could’ve been a lot worse.

2. I am grateful my wounds are healing as well as can be expected. I’m getting them dressed once a day now, which is frustrating and sometimes very painful. I looked up my kind of burn (that’s how I found out there are two kinds of second-degree burns) and it usually heals within two weeks. Yay!

3. I am grateful for French fries on Sunday. As I couldn’t walk on Sunday (or most of this week, for that matter) because the band-aid that was on my leg would fall off if I did, I decided that my spouse shouldn’t come by for a visit. Instead, my staff took me to the institution cafeteria in a wheelchair to have fries and some snacks. They were delicious!

4. I am grateful for nice weather last week Sunday as well as over the past couple days. Last Sunday, the daytime temperature rose to 15°C. When having the fries I mentioned above, we sat in the cafeteria yard.

5. I am grateful I am feeling slightly better mentally. I definitely hit rock bottom on February 29 and from that place, you can only go up. I will have to see how things work out in the long run, as the behavior specialist is going to try to talk to the therapist I met on Feb 29 to see whether any changes to the plan need to be made. Though I’m ready to give it a try, particularly the thought of doing the therapy without the support of my staff, feels overwhelming.

6. I am grateful that my support coordinator listened to me when discussing the outcome of the monthly team meeting with me. The team meeting was on Monday and, though I had already asked that some things would be discussed, such as my day schedule, my self-harm made things a priority. The day schedule isn’t changing, as I expected, but I honestly don’t mind as much.

Initially, in the team meeting, the staff had agreed to stick with announcing staff switches half an hour in advance. I was really disappointed. Though I understand the staff don’t want to designate a one-on-one shift, I feel it will help me immensely if I know more in advance who’s going to support me for my activity slots. I am grateful my support coordinator reluctantly agreed to this.

7. I am grateful my support coordinator reassured me that she and the behavior specialist at least aren’t planning on asking for less one-on-one for me anytime soon. Of course, they aren’t the ones making those decisions, but then again neither is the therapist I met last week.

8. I am grateful I did manage a few crafty endeavors over the past week. Not as many as I’d hoped, but I did craft yet another polymer clay unicorn, as well as finally making the crocodile I’d promised one of the male staff here. He actually helped me make it. It’s maybe a little too cute, but oh well.

Polymer Clay Crocodile

9. I am grateful my spouse came by for a visit today. We sat in my room talking, playing a card game and such, as I still didn’t feel comfortable going out.

10. I am grateful for the few short (as in, fifteen minutes tops) walks I did manage over the past few days. It’s been a pain f(sometimes literally) inding the right band-aids and other things to go over the wound. Let’s hope Dr. Google is right and my wound heals within the expected timeframe of two weeks.

February 2024 Reflections #WBOYC

Hi everyone. I’m sharing this past month’s reflections again, as it’s the last day of the month. February is often a hard month for me and this year was no exception. I honestly feel quite hopeless as I write this post, even though I probably should be feeling cautiously optimistic. Let’s dive in. As usual, I’m linking up with #WBOYC.

During the first few weeks of the month, I shared some more concretely about things I wish would change about my care here at my current care home, only to be told nothing will change until after the summer at least. This caused me quite a bit of despair, honestly.

The contrast couldn’t be greater when I did experience exactly one near-perfect day last week and saw nothing about it in the staff’s records. When telling my staff about this, I got advised that maybe reading the log notes might not be a good idea after all. WTF?

It also looks like my staff are using my current mistrust, and the fact that I’ll likely develop trust in my staff very slowly, as an excuse not to have to improve my care. After all, yesterday my assigned staff said my level of trust is currently zero so any improvement is to be celebrated when I was calling him out on ways in which he and his coworkers are expecting too much of me.

Today, I had the intake interview for therapy at my care agency’s practice. I probably portrayed myself as an attention-seeking, childish, purposefully-dependent monster. The therapist who asked me the questions (there were two in the room, plus my home’s behavior specialist), kept repeating how feeling isn’t dangerous.

At one point, I was talking about how I sometimes trigger myself by looking up idealized care situations. She was like: “But you don’t need full-time one-on-one.”. I know. Then she went on to tell me that sometimes she feels bored and lonely when she’s at home alone, but nothing bad happens so she can stay home alone. She also told me I’m an adult. This somehow majorly triggered me and now I feel bad for being triggered because doesn’t that prove my former psychologist’s point of view? You know, the one who diagnosed me with dependent personality disorder and told me I needed a good kick in the behind to live independently?

Yet things did happen. I dropped my meds. I dropped glass on the floor. I fell of a kitchen stool. The housing association came by and told me I needed to pull away the weeds out of my backdoor path. And a thousand other things. None of these are serious things, except that I had no idea how to handle them so spiraled into panic. And there’s no point teaching me how to handle every tiny little situation that could go wrong. And for the record, sitting with the feelings won’t solve the problems either. Calling for help rather than spiraling into panic might have, but that didn’t seem to be her point. Besides, I cannot do that when I’m in a panic.

She did say that she doesn’t make decisions about my independence, but I feel very strongly like I am being asked to be the strong, independent, intellectual part of myself again.

The therapists ended up recommending a form of play therapy, but the play therapist who comes to the main institution is male and I’ll be alone with him. That’s not an option for me, honestly. They are going to look into finding me a female therapist. I hope they will, as the rest of what they recommended, though I did agree to go forward with it and have my first appt on April 3, seems a bit off. They recommended psychoeducation on emotions, which seemed to me a bit like dialectical behavior therapy light (I’d mentioned I’d done DBT unsuccessfully). They’ll also help me identify my triggers and make a timeline of significant life events or something. I’m not sure what relevance that would have, but oh well.

Currently, I’m trying to talk myself into being positive. This care home clearly won’t improve, so either I improve or my life stays the same. Which is mediocre. I do have my good days, but I’m pretty sure the staff are going to agree at the next team meeting that the staff’s less optimal care approach should be the default.

On my good days this past month, I did craft some earrings, a polymer clay unicorn and bird’s nest, as well as make delicious homemade chocolate fudge. This was awesome!

No Such Thing As “Minor” Trauma

Recently, there was a discussion online I participated in about what caused our complex PTSD. I mentioned emotional, mental and physical abuse, bullying, a few instances of sexual violation and medical trauma. Most others not only went into far more detail than I was comfortable, but also discussed traumatic experiences that seemed far worse compared to those I’d gone through. When I mentioned this, saying reading others’ stories made me feel as though my trauma was minor, someone else commented how there’s no such thing as “minor” trauma.

Indeed, if something was significant enough to have caused C-PTSD, it was traumatic, and this means it was major. I am reminded of something my spouse said at one point when I was seeing a potential new trauma therapist back in 2013 (who ended up rejecting me for reasons not related to me). I was doubting the reality of my trauma. To this, my spouse said that, in reality, something as “minor” as slipping on the bathroom floor, could be life-threatening, so in theory I could’ve developed PTSD from that. I didn’t and I didn’t develop PTSD from any of my countless other falls, but I might have. Of course, this is a bit far-fetched, and of course I couldn’t have developed complex PTSD from falling, but I hope my point is clear: it’s not always easy to distinguish between events that objectively speaking count as trauma and things that don’t.

There are trauma centers here in the Netherlands that adhere very strictly to criterion A (the presence of things that count as trauma, according to professionals) in DSM-5 for treating people with (C-)PTSD. I’m not sure I’d meet their criterion. I mean, yes, I did experience exactly one potentially life-threatening medical event that I remember, when I was four. I was also hit quite regularly, but does that go beyond “tough love”? If it doesn’t, I’m pretty sure it doesn’t meet the trauma criterion for (C-)PTSD.

Then again, I’m not seeking to get into one of these centers. Tomorrow, I’ll have a get-to-know-me appointment with the care agency’s therapy practice. They haven’t yet decided whether they can help me or not. I hope they can, because right now I’m feeling rather hopeless.

#WeekendCoffeeShare (November 18, 2023)

Hi everyone. I have barely touched the blog lately, but it’s not because I’ve been uninspired. Rather, I’ve mostly been doing other things online. Before I abandon it altogether, I thought I’d write a post though. I’m joining in with #WeekendCoffeeShare. I’ve had my last cup of coffee for the day, but thankfully my assigned staff ordered my favorite soft drink, apple and peach-flavored Dubbelfrisss, so I’ll have that in a bit. If you’d like one too, join me. Let’s have a drink and let’s catch up.

If we were having coffee, first I’d talk about the weather. It’s been raining all day today and, though we were supposed to have a daytime high of 12°C, I don’t know when that was supposed to have been the case as it’s been around 7°C each time I looked at the weather on my Apple Watch. I haven’t been outside at all. I mean, I can bear the cold, but rain, yuck! I can tolerate it when it starts raining midway through a walk, but when it rains as I leave the house, I usually turn right around. Consequently, I didn’t meet my movement goal on my Apple Watch today at all. In fact, I’m pretty sure I hit an all-time low, but frankly, I don’t care.

The rest of the week, though we had some rain, it wasn’t constantly pouring. Though some days I needed to get out my winter coat, most days the daytime temperature wasn’t too cold either.

If we were having coffee, I’d cheat a little and tell you all about the meeting I had last week with my assigned staff, support coordinator, behavior specialist and my mother-in-law. Okay, who said you can only talk about the past week during a weekend coffee share? Maybe I did. Anyway, the meeting started out with my assigned staff complimenting me on how I do accept men and unfamiliar staff now. This rubbed me the wrong way, as the day prior he’d pretty much given me no choice, so what was I to do? I’ll see tomorrow whether they’ll go the full length and assign me a male staff for my ADLs (which is a big no for me), as then the female staff who normally always assigns me temp workers is working the morning shift with a male temp worker. Said temp worker is familiar with everyone here, but I am honestly quite sure she’s going to assign him to me for my morning routine anyway. Let me just say I’m going to throw a big hissy fit if this happens.

Other than that, the meeting went okay. We talked about my day schedule, which is okay in terms of how many hours of support I get but far from ideal in terms of how it’s cut up into small blocks. Since my ExtraCare (one-on-one) funding hasn’t been approved yet for next year, we’re waiting to see what happens to that to change anything. I’m pretty fearful the Care Office doesn’t consider every single moment the staff spend with me as ExtraCare, as, well, it isn’t, but the manager does. Oh well, we’ll see.

We also talked about my wish to start therapy again for my trauma-related symptoms. Upon further thought, I realized I need to work on stabilizing first before I start EMDR or whatnot. The behavior specialist is going to write an application. I am also going to work with my assigned staff on my signaling plan, which details how I can best be supported during each phase of emotional (dys)regulation.

If we were having coffee, lastly I’d share about my dietitian’s appt on Wednesday. It went pretty well. I am currently at a healthy weight and within the weight range I agreed upon with her. She did finally admit she doesn’t know why I’m not gaining weight when I’m having quite a lot of food in excess of my food plan. I honestly currently have far too many other things on my mind to care about this too. I mean, yes, I’m scared, but I’m scared for a lot of other reasons too.

How have you been?

Saying Goodbye to Mental Health Services

Hi everyone. October 10 is World Mental Health Day. In honor of this, many bloggers are writing about mental health this week. As a person with serious mental health challenges, I think I need to offer up my contribution too. However, mine will be a bit different, in that just last Tuesday I had my for now final appointment with a professional from a mental health service.

I did not usually share details of my less than stellar experiences with my psychiatric nurse practitioner on the blog, but let me say that my appointments, except for those concerning medication, over the past three years, have for the most part been useless. Maybe my expectations of an assertive community treatment team were too high. For those who don’t know, an assertive community treatment team is an outreach-based team that treats the most severely mentally ill, usually care-avoidant patients. As a result, a lot of the care they do is more like support and steering towards services than actual therapy. They do have a psychologist on the team, but the majority of clinicians are actually community psychiatric nurses.

Back when I got kicked out of the psych hospital in 2017, I did need such a team, as I needed lots of support in my daily life. However, once I’d moved into long-term care, maybe an assertive community treatment team wasn’t the most logical choice of treatment teams. And yet that’s where I ended up.

Not to say it’s all my or my referring agency’s fault. My nurse practitioner did flat out refuse to refer me anywhere else even when he should have realized he couldn’t provide the kind of treatment I needed. He also claimed we were doing “trauma treatment” by merely talking over my mental health struggles, which happen to be trauma-related, occasionally. In my opinion, it was neither specifically trauma-focused nor treatment.

Now I know that my staff and the behavior specialist at the care home are probably as capable as my mental health professionals were at helping me deal with my everyday instability. Neither can provide trauma-focused therapy, while both can provide a listening ear (my staff at my old care home at least often better than my nurse practitioner, in fact).

I did, of course, start my topiramate and pregabalin while in treatment with my now former mental health team. This I do credit the team’s psychiatrist hugely for. I don’t honestly think an intellectual disability physician would’ve been able to come up with this idea and I’m not sure a consulting psychiatrist would’ve gotten the idea either. Then again, now that I’m on a stable dose of both meds and only wanting to slowly decrease my aripiprazole, my agency’s intellectual disability physician can manage that.

All this combined got me to conclude that I don’t think I want mental health services anymore. If I or any of my current professionals ever change our minds, I can always get referred back to a mental health agency.

A Profound Appt with My CPN

Yesterday I had another appt with my community psychiatric nurse (CPN). At first, we went into how I’m doing at the moment. Then my CPN scheduled some appts for me with my nurse practitioner. Last Monday, after all, he and the behavior specialist from my care facility had finally come to the conclusion that I need to do some work on stabilizing myselves and developing inner cooperation before I can do EMDR or another form of trauma therapy. At first, the secretary said the first appt she had available was late December. It turned out to be December 17, so that’s pretty early considering how long I’ve been waiting already.

Then we got to discuss some issues relating to my diagnosis or the lack thereof. These were mostly theoretical, since I have no idea what my current diagnosis is and I really don’t care. I mean, the most recent treatment guidelines here in the Netherlands for complex dissociative disorders, aren’t suited to me (or most plurals, honestly), so I have no reason to want such a diagnosis. All I want is help in getting the inner turmoil under control.

Then I somehow got to mention my former psychiatrist’s comment when first considering assessing me for DID/OSDD in the summer of 2018. She held both of my hands and said: “You have just one body.” Then she went on to explain that, while she was holding our hands, none of us could put our fingers in our ears and pretend not to listen.

We then repeated this exercise. A staff always attends our appts with mental health with us. She now held both our hands and said that we can stay at the care facility. Someone asked cautiously: “Even if I need more help than I get now?” She then reassured us that yes, even if we need more help, we can stay here.

Then the staff asked our CPN what she’s supposed to do when we openly switch, as we had the day before. My CPN seemed not to know, so I suggested she do not elicit it, but do not fight it when it happens either. After all, when she insists that “Astrid” come back, this may create some trouble since “Astrid” is either everyone or no-one at all.

I really hope our nurse practitioner isn’t going to insist people only talk to “Astrid”, as the current guidelines on DID/OSDD seem to suggest as far as I know. I mean, we are okay all listening to the body’s name and won’t sign our names on E-mails or the like when it’s not appropriate, but one of our main issues is that there is no host who somehow “owns” the others. As such, the daily living parts or apparently normal parts or whatever don’t have access to every bit of information needed to cooperate.

Yet Another Night-Time Crisis

Honestly, I don’t know why I want to share this. It’s late Monday evening here and I’m feeling okay’ish. Tomorrow, I’ll have another meeting with my CPN and nurse practitioner to discuss my treatment. This got us worrying a lot last night, so much so that we ended up in crisis.

As I probably said a few weeks ago, my nurse practitioner wants me to try acceptance and commitment therapy. This wasn’t what we’d expected at all and honestly I still don’t understand how he thinks it’s a good fit for my issues. I mean, it’s evidence-based for depression, anxiety and OCD, none of which we deal with to a significant degree.

He was also pretty dismissive of my trauma-related symptoms. Obviously he doesn’t believe we’re plural. Fine by me, though not by some of the others. But somehhow he seemed not to believe I suffer with any type of trauma-related condition at all. At least, he didn’t feel that trauma treatment could or should help us.

This got us worrying last night, as we really have no idea how to advocate for ourself without coming across like a malingerer. It got so bad that we ended up impulsively leaving our room.

After our last case of elopement, the staff decided to lock the door to our home, so I couldn’t go outside. The night staff though hadn’t come to my room to check on me yet. It was 11:10PM. The night shift normally starts at 10:30. Eventually, a substitute night staff came by, saying he had to do one-on-one with another client, that the real night staff was delayed and he was really busy so could I please go back to my room? That upset us greatly, so even though we went back to our room as requested, some of us started self-harming.

About twenty minutes later, the real night staff came to check on us. We were upset, so told her to leave. She left and we cried and self-harmed some more because we were still very upset. Our signaling plan says staff are to stay with us if we’re upset even if we tell them to leave, but I don’t know whether the night staff have access to this plan.

Finally, we left our room again and waited, still panicked, for the night staff to be alerted and to come check on us. She was distraught at seeing us so upset. It makes me feel shame and guilt for making her feel this way. She got us a PRN lorazepam, which calmed us slightly. Still, we didn’t sleep till 2AM.

Now I’m feeling okay again, but I’m still not sure what to do with tomorrow’s appt. I mean, after each crisis, my mental health team say I somehow managed to get out of it. They probably mean it as a compliment, but it doesn’t feel that way. Today, I didn’t even care to call the mental health team. I’m still shifting between wanting to give up mental health treatment altogether and demanding trauma therapy. After all, the reason the appt upset me so much is that it triggered my feelings of being unseen, unheard, unsupported. Then again, maybe we’re not worth being seen, heard or supported.