There was a major war with my kid this morning. All over a t-shirt. The one she picked was small and showed her belly when she lifted her arms, a no no at school. So I told her t change shirts. Off to bloody races we went.She screamed, bawled, called me stupid over and over. I finally found a shirt and told her to put it on. She did. Seemed like she was going to calm down. Then she ripped the shirt off, threw it at me, and burst into another round of “you’re stupid”. So I went to physically grasp her with a hand behind her back since she was leaned against her bed and what does she do? She throws her weight back against me so she lands hard against the heavy bed frame and my hand and starts screaming ‘I’M TELLING THE SCHOOL YOU ABUSED ME!”
Yeah, it was that kind of morning. Then she launched into panic about being late but she was the one still having a tantrum and I wasn’t about to take her to school like that, nor drive with her acting that way. Eventually got her there, walked her to the office just in case she was late. She wasn’t. Now I’m just waiting for protective services to show up. She had me in fucking tears.
I made the mistake of going to the shop to lean on my “friend”, ya know, R, the preaching “I raised three kids and they all turned out successful.” I asked for his advice. He said nothing. I asked again. Again, he said nothing but shrugged. Yet when he’s here, he’s got all sorts of ideas on how to parent “right.” What the fuck? I need some comfort and guidance, he’s got nothing. I want him to butt out, he can’t shut up.
Suffice it to say, between her, him, and up and down all night with the itchy skin and the drowning in sinus drainage…By the time I hit the shrink’s office…I burst into tears. I was just that beaten down. He asked me how things are. I asked, “You want the truth or you want the glossed over version?” He said truth. And so I started to pour it all out.
He listened. Twenty whole minutes. He suggested I get Spook in at the counseling place and they’d determine if she needs meds for the aggressive outbursts. Bad side- guess who is their staff child psychologist? If you guessed R’s know it all daughter, you win what’s behind door number two. This woman has been uber critical of me at every social event where Spook and I were there on a personal level. This is a woman who spanked her baby at four months old. But she’s got the fancy master’s degree and…Seriously, this is my option? She’s got so many anger issues of her own, it’s like taking Dahmer to be treated for cannibalism by a tribe who practices it as a lifestyle. FOR FUCK’S SAKE.
I mentioned this conflict and he said I could always ask for D, specifically, who is a counselor rather than psychologist, but there’s no guarantee I’d get her. It’s food for thought.
I told him about my lack of family support. How worn down I am and I wasn’t this bad last year in spite a ton of stuff that was going wrong in my life. He mentioned an outpatient program in another town. Yeah, ‘cos I can get a sitter, and afford to drive fifty miles a day for four weeks. It’s a lovely notion but not feasible at this time.
He raised my Cymbalta to 120 a day, left everything else the same. Even the Restoril which I explained I couldn’t really take, but that went in one ear and out the other. I mentioned the disability review and he was pretty confident that while I would have to see a doctor of their choosing, he has well documented my problems and that they won’t cut me off. Ha. He doesn’t know how the system works. Still, it’s nice to know he sides with me cos I really am in sucky shape.
THEN because it was really a thorn in my paw, I lamented all the shiny happy spewage out there regarding mental illness that results in more stigma and makes us feel worse. Like 12 Step Programs for Mental Health. Cos basically a 12 step program is admitting you’ve done something wrong. Even he agreed it’s a disservice because none of us asked for this. He made the point that if we had a VISIBLE illness, things would be very different. But only those who suffer, are with someone who suffers, or treats someone who suffers, can understand the devastating toll and just how real it is. He said it’s wrong to boil it all down to positive attitude.
By the time I left, I wanted to do a cartwheel. FINALLY a professional who saw my outrage for what it was rather than calling it pessimism. Seriously, a 12 step program for mental illness? What have we done wrong to need such a thing? Sure, our bad behaviors during certain cycles must be rectified, but it’s not like we ever set out to be evil or destructive so WHY A 12 PROGRAM FOR SOMETHING WE DIDN’T CHOOSE? It’s mind boggling how much of this shit is floating around out there. Makes me wonder how many seriously mentally ill people read how Biff and Buffy simply changed their outlook and dressed nicer and they were all cured, so the sick person killed themselves. Sound dramatic? It’s really not. Much like fat shaming, especially by those who used to be heavy, shaming the mentally ill is wrong. Most of these sunshine spewers don’t even have a long history of suffering so I imagine it was far easier for them to make some changes and come out shiny and happy.
It just angers me to have such a real battle so trivialized, and to have it out there where some depressed kid might see it, decide it’s fact rather than opinion, and give up on themselves to a drastic end result.
Aside from him setting the next appt for two months and blowing off the seasonal with the light therapy thing…It was an ok appointment. I didn’t have my list, of course, because of Spook’s fit preventing me from running to print it out. But I think crumbling before his eyes was more telling. I didn’t plan it that way, because if you cry, you’re attention seeking, unstable, too emotional. You know how we get blamed for having emotions,letting alone letting them out. Today it all just boiled over. And he didn’t lambaste me for admitting things are pretty bad.
Which just proves…Opinions are like assholes- everyone has one and they all stink. Just because it’s on the internet doesn’t make it true. Disclaimers should have to be included on shiny happy posts same as triggering posts. Cos shiny happy is skull and crossbones biohazard toxic to me and I will no longer be reading them.
If this offends any shiny happy people, too bad. I am deeply offended by you posting in mental health then deducing it all to prayer and positive attitude. We don’t have to agree but I no more expect you to read my downtrodden posts that bring you down, so I won’t feel bad for avoiding the shiny happy stuff when I am down and out.
I may write depressing things but that’s because I HAVE DEPRESSION. I may be a negative bitch, but I am okay with that.
Least it’s truthful.
That’s the question my psychiatrist asked me yesterday, because it’s easier for me to list what I have not taken, than the multitude of meds I’ve tried over the years. He decided to add a low dose of 
