I Call Bullshit

Dear Therapist,

Let’s be honest. Outside of my frustrations with myself – feeling like I don’t talk about the things I need to talk about with a therapist, feeling like I’m lying, feeling like the majority of therapists I’ve talked to end up talking about their own lives rather than listening to me talk about mine – I need a real human being to say words out loud too.

I almost gave up on this blog to get a real therapist. April marks a year since I last cut myself. I’ve spent the last two weeks nearly breaking my streak. At the same time I feel all of this pain and then I feel dead inside. I can’t level out because every small thing sends me into a new tail spin. It’s bad. I know it’s bad, so I did the smart thing. I called my new insurance to see what it covered as far as mental health.

Turns out, even with health insurance, I can’t afford to see a therapist. Welcome to America, where you pay a lot to not see a doctor. It was a scary moment. Before, I was just being a stupid, lazy, asshole who just needed to go see a doctor. Now, I’m just straight up alone and helpless. That’s how it felt for an hour.

I can’t just do nothing. The likelihood of me committing suicide is already much higher than the average human. I can’t be Anastasia riding the train and instead of jumping off and hoping not to die upon impact of the snow drift, ride the train straight over the edge of the cliff towards certain death. I have to find something, try anything, and survive somehow.

So, I’m scheduling myself. I’m not allowing free time, not that I’ll do something harmful if I’m not entertained at all times. It’s that I let myself fall into this stupor where I’m on the couch watching Korean dramas for hours while mindlessly scrolling through social media on my phone. That could kill a person, depression and anxiety aside. I’m scheduling out my day so I have time for social media and K-dramas, but I also have time every day to start working out, to write on my story that’s shit but maybe I’ll still finish it, to listen to the Bible from Audible, and to practice learning Korean 30 minutes a day. I’m giving myself time to do things that better me and make me happy when I do them regularly. I’m breaking everything up into smaller chunks so that I feel more fulfilled.

I’m also really going to try to stick with working out. Not to loose weight. I mean, I wish someone science-y would come along and ask me to be a part of their experiment which ends in my being thin with straighter teeth and thicker hair. Also, in these fantasies they make it so I can speak eight foreign languages, I can do ballet, and play piano, plus I’m just ridiculously smart and maybe can do some form of martial arts. I want it all. A girl can dream, you know? So, obviously, if I lose weight, awesome. I’m more interested in the endorphins. I’ve seen that through my many bouts of exercise, quitting, new exercise, quitting that my depression doesn’t fall so low. I can’t tell you how aggravating it is that exercising really does help because I don’t want to sound like that person who’s trying to tout this healthy lifestyle that solves everything. But, alas, working out keeps my depression from drooping too low and I don’t lose it at every little thing.

I’m also going to start researching good foods and vitamins to help endure what’s happening in my brain. This is not where I feel comfortable. I have no issues popping pills and finding the correct dosage to make me feel somewhat normal. Intrinsically, I’m anti-holistic. However, I’ve realized I gotta do what I gotta do to survive.

So that’s my goal. It’s only Day Two. I’ve hit a few bumps, but I promised myself that I’d remember to be flexible because life laughs at timetables. I take it as good practice for the long haul. I’m choosing to have good thoughts and hope about this plan.

Catch ya next session.

Love,

Roonil

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