Over the past three or four weeks, I feel like my mental health has declined rather drastically. Before I was starting to do things with my day, I got more motivated and creative with my art, I spent more time with my family and I just felt chirpier in myself. Now I have no motivation, I am withdrawing again and in general feel sad and depressed.
Every Monday I go to a group CBT session for an hour and a half. So far I have only found a little benefit in it; we are given many handouts and sheets which explain different ways to change our thinking and behaviour but I am having a serious problem applying them in my life. I understand what I need to be doing but I don’t have the motivation or inclination to do it. The handouts are the only part that I find helpful; during the session itself the time spent on me one to one with the therapists is lost. I can’t comprehend what someone is telling me face to face, I need to see things written down to understand them.
Today I had an appointment with my psychiatrist, Dr B and another person I see with him called G. To be completely honest, I don’t even know who or in what capacity G is. I remember little of the conversation as a couple of minutes in I had an anxiety attack where I couldn’t move or speak just bite my fingers and shake. I remember being asked about my sleep, medication, side effects, self-care, home life, plans for Christmas and about the CBT. I didn’t speak in sentences, I could only answer with a couple of words each time. I really struggle communicating with Dr B and I don’t know what to do about it; I have always had trouble talking to men about my problems. I don’t know why but I find it difficult especially when Dr B and G just sit there in front of me smiling and looking overly sympathetic, with G muttering under his breath “Aw bless her”.
Today I also relapsed and self-harmed for the first time in months, possibly near half a year. Probably 10 cuts or less on my upper arm and thigh, 2 on arm, 8 or less on thigh. I don’t know how to feel about it; part of me regrets it because I had been clean for so long but at the same time I don’t care. It hasn’t helped me cope with today but it hasn’t made it worse either. I should be ashamed but I’m not. I don’t feel any worse for doing it.
Yesterday I had a problem with my two best friends. The one with mental health problems has revealed to us that she has been taking drugs for months and took some pills yesterday as well as getting stitches once again a few days ago; she was on her way to the hospital. My other friend is having some personal problems which she won’t disclose because she doesn’t think I need to worry about her. Speaking to my friends about the serious problems that are filling our lives makes me deeply sad. I miss the way we used to be at college. We were so happy and hardly ever spoke about personal stuff that mean we didn’t have a care in the world when we were together. Now it seems so wrong and broken. I love them dearly but I want to go back to the way it was.
Everything feels like it’s falling apart at the seams. My friendships are strained as is the relationship between my mum and my sister whereby my sister is still unemployed, my mental health is deteriorating once again and I am just watching it happen.
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