I don't like Mondays (or this video)
Boomtown Rats
Tuesday
I don't like the idea of hating Mondays. Yesterday I posted the very old song "I Don't Like Mondays" by the Boomtown Rats (awful name) on G+ yesterday because I had to go to the therapist. being with the therapist is not the problem. Anyway, if you're not old enough, the song is about the news of one of the first school shootings in the US that hit the UK. Supposedly, the reason the shooter (a girl) gave why she did it was, "I don't like Mondays", hence the song and the terrible 80's video.
I had never had a morning/early afternoon so awful, so filled with anxiety as I did yesterday in such a longass fucking time. It was fucking horrible! The more I tried to stop thinking about it, the more I did, and made things even worse. Breathing didn't help either. I kept eating bits of seroquel that I'd cut off a 200mg chunk and another piece I'd found sitting on the table from who knows where. I stopped at about 1.15.
At about 1.30, I thought, I just grabbed my shit and left the house before I could really form a thought. I had no idea what time it was, but figured I'd have plenty of time to make it since my appointment was at 2. I was overdressed for the weather in a big black hoodie, and I pretended no one could see me. That didn't work.I was really struggling up the street with a cigarette in one hand, and the other hand in my pocket, tightly clutching my keys and mini Swiss army knife. I had to make one stop alone the way because it seemed I couldn't do 2/3 things at the same time - smoke, walk, listen to music.
So I stopped in a doorway to finish my smoke, looking like some kind of sleazy freak. My back hurt again, but I wasn't going to let it hurt me more and make things worse. We're talking about a 4-5 block (?) walk!!! WTF!! I know!!
I was listening to - get this and laugh - Boston "Peace of Mind" - over and over again, and one of the lines was "look ahead", so I did. Above all the heads, there was the sign I was waiting to see, the Haagen Daz ice cream shop on the corner. The therapist's corner! I tried to remember eating ice cream there as a very young silly punk rock teenager, barely 14. I tried to think of a flavor of ice cream with all different kinds of things in it, kept struggling up the street, trying not to trip up, or crash into anybody along the way. Oh holy ice cream fucking store, let me reach your fucking corner! Don't let my back give out! Don't let my lower back kill me, even though I no longer find ice cream appealing! Fuck! Please!
I made it across the street and to the door of the offices. I saw my reflection in the glass door and thought 'you pathetic fuck!' and the shame came raining down upon me like a thunderstorm in New Orleans. Fuck you, reflection. I opened the door and checked my phone for the time. It wasn't even 1.30 yet. I left my place around 1.27ish. This had to be wrong. Did I lose some time somewhere? Disappear into the Awkward Dimension for a while? It seemed to take forever for me to get to the office. There was no way that I made it there so fast. If I was going to teleport there, could we skip the fucking MISERY next fucking time?JFC!
I made it to the therapist's and back, and I did not cry a single tear. Mostly I just couldn't shut up about how I'd sort of reconnected with some cousins via FB, remembering only those as the good times - playing with cousins in childhood. Towards the end, I thought WTF?! Structure! There is no structure here! I'm blabbing for nothing. She's not even taking notes! Something's very wrong with this picture. BP's need fucking structure in this yap therapy thing, otherwise it's a waste, and I'm not doing it again.
I'm cancelling next Monday, and telling her what my be is, asking her where her notes are, why she never takes any, why she hasn't mentioned the possible cause of the anxiety maybe being some unconscious fear. Well, that's what I'm starting to think. An unconscious thing or maybe something that's shoved so far back in my head that it is there, that it's not unconscious, that it's something I can't dig up just yet, maybe something that I can't or don't want to admit to myself. I fucking do not know, but IT IS SLOWLY FUCKING KILLING ME.
I crashed on the couch from mental/emotional/meds exhaustion and woke up with a "meds hangover" the next day.
I don't want to hate Mondays when I used to look forward to them! I cannot take this shrink schedule, and I won't.
You are an ass kicking chick, you are. You are strong, and beautiful, and magnificent. I always found therapy to be really anxiety inducing as well. Kind of like I had to "preform" like some odd freak show. Something about having someone looking at you as your pour out all of the bad and ugly and scary bits of your life. Like they are looking from the outside in. I have had amazing therapists but it always still made me feel that way, at first. If Mondays are a no go for you then she should work hard on finding a different day. You have an anxiety disorder and she should take that into consideration. Seriously....wth. My thoughts are with you girl, hang in there.
ReplyDelete+Nelly N. Oh thanks! Of all the "therapy" in my life, added up together, I've found it to be as useful as spreading peanut butter with a seafood fork. Yes, I agree that some therapists just sit there, seemingly expecting you to perform your diagnoses, or issues, or maybe get up and do some stand-up comedy or a speech, like they did want a freak show and to get paid for watching! I have had enough spewing my bloody emotional guts for the curiosity and/or amusement of the initiated and the complete dumbshits for quite a while. Dumbshit would include that last one I saw. Harsh, but what so-called feminist woman psychologist would not keep up on diagnoses that affect women? She's the one that asked me what PMDD was when I mentioned it. Fired! So no, I'm not going to torture myself by giving myself anxiety of going back there. My only upcoming appointment is with my Rx psychiatrist who has known me for almost half my life - d'oh! - on Tue am, and I don't feel anxious about seeing him at all. I don't feel like I'm going to go in there and break down, like I usually do. I'll be tired, but I'll be in a different mood than he's seen me in for a long time, and asking for more Topomax. It's not giving me the "dumbs", still helping with appetite suppression.and it's Rx'd for bipolar for some unknown reason anyway. We'll see what he says about everything. I feel good right now, just tired. Stomach ache gone away. Think that was from granola. I'm just going to take it easy, and I'm sure that my Dr will recommend the same for a while, then nag me about therapy again.... Thanks for your thoughts, dear Lady N! You rock!
DeleteI think I'm going to buy and download Boondock Saints 2, a new source of old amusement!