ok, we talked about anhedonia recently. I went to my primary mental health provider medication type person yesterday. Her name is Cat (not her real name of course). This was the first time I got to see her.
She works through Travis County's Integral Care system, known as ATCIC. It used to be called MHMR until what I assume was a move towards political correctness on the County's part. Us retards struggling to get by and work through our myriad of silly issues do to like to be referred to as retards. Actually, I don't really care what you call me. Not that I am fairly well plugged into the system, I am pretty much getting what I need to stay alive another day, so call me whatever the fuck you want...
I will wear it like a fucking badge:
So I had a conversation with Cat and we decided that it is true: I am really depressed, I have convinced my self it is not going to get better, and I would be better off dead. That being said, I have somehow managed to surround myself with entities (family, friends, mental health professionals, and of course Luna) that do not want me to be dead. Cat and I laughed about the fact that I am not very good at suicide as that I am still alive. She tweaked my medication some, mainly increasing my dosage of seraquil so I can sleep better, gave me the name of a med called
The biggest issue Cat and I talked about though is this:
We talked about ECT
Electro Convulsive Therapy, I have been obsessing about ever since the Honey Badger, my primary counselor at the residential treatment program I was at for 5 months fairly recently (most folks hate it, other than the fact that I only got to see Luna every couple of weeks, I was ok with it for the most part, was fed and watered, worked on the weekly movie crew and because I was polite and nice, I to music channels on my dorm TV).
I hate to put too much into any kind of valhalla dream that I have but I really want this to work. I really do not want to be fucking despondently sad all of the fucking time and I do not want to have to concentrate so fucking hard on dealing with being so fucking despondently sad all the fucking time.
Does that make sense? Probably not but there you go. Welcome to my daily battles/conversations/debates with Bob.
As I am insanely anxious about the ECT process and getting it started, i am going to stop writing about it now. The Fixer is doing some inquiries for me in the morning and I am just going to let the professionals fight for me for the next few days. We will definitely being coming back to all of this for sure.
In the meantime, here is a book that I have been using that were suggested by the Benevolent Gnome:
The Happiness Trap
This is a great book that sinks the idea that to be happy and content, you just have to tell yourself to be happy and content. that is complete and utter bullshit...you are who you are, you do not have to fix yourself. Accept yourself for who you are, work with the thoughts that are useful and valuable and safe and tell Bob to go pound sand with those thoughts that say you should jump in front of moving vehicles....but do it nicely, Bob does not really know better...
Also- whenever someone tells you to just be happy...give 'em a big old shit eating grin and tell them to go worry about their own selves, you are fine just the way you are...if that does not work and they still keep bugging you...just start talking gibberish to an unseen person next to them...go full retard...no one will get near you then...
holy fuck sticks...rough day but processing this makes my life slightly more effective....thanks to the Gnome and the Fixer for their support today...
No mental health shit for a few days...the next couple of blogs will deal with creative endeavors...
see ya later...jmart & Luna