I can’t sleep. I’m scared about tomorrow. I’ve got to be up early, so I know that a good nights rest is important for my mood, and yet it eludes me. I guess I’ll be going in lethargic and restless. Nervousness about psychiatric appointments is nothing new. I’m normally quite anxious before them, but this one is going to be different. Harder. What I say tomorrow may change everything, or nothing, depending on the psychiatrist I talk to. That’s one of the drawbacks with my outpatient care; a different stranger every time I go. They have my notes, reams and reams of them. I doubt very much that everything gets read by the person I see. It feels as though they are just listening for words or phrases that cause them immediate concern, everything else is just filler. Throwaway thoughts, that mean very little to them and the whole world to me. Also because I am unable to Express my thoughts and emotions with tears I come across as more stoic than I actually am, more stable than I am. Of course these people must be aware of this presentation, they must have been taught this during their education; but it’s easy to feel as if they aren’t aware. The body language they present is usually very similar, no matter who you see. They face you, hands cupped in their laps; perhaps a sympathetic head tilt to one side, nods in all the right places; and yet, I always feel like a fraud. Perhaps that’s the bpd? I don’t know.
I’ve been told how brave it is for me to put my thoughts in a blog so freely. But really it’s easy to do this to a faceless population than tell a stranger for 3/4 of an hour about how much of your time you spend wishing you could jump of a bridge.