So I finally went to see a psychiatrist about getting on some medicine to help with some of the more unusual thoughts that I’ve been having. I lie to the person who brings me, telling them its only a part of my regular yearly check up that people with disabilities have to have done. I don’t want to admit to the person closest to me that on a daily basis I think about suicide or have homicidal thoughts. But when the voices start to become louder than my own voice I know its time to get some help again.
Last time I spoke with a few officers online which helped me from committing suicide. I was close and went as far as going to a town where I knew I could easily provoke an officer into doing what I’m apparently to chicken to do. Just the act of following through with my plan up until the last possible moment was enough to bring me back to reality for a little while. It gave me enough of an adrenaline boost to decide I really didn’t want to die at that moment, it could wait until another time. Now once again I am faced with those feelings, and the only way I feel I can get past this moment, is to do something …. I don’t want to say crazy… but something that will help me stay in reality without using some sort of drug.
I arrive at the office on time, matter of fact I was early, but I wanted to come early just in case I couldn’t find the place, or the weather might slow us down getting there. It was pouring down rain, and I almost wanted to cancel the appointment, but I felt if I didn’t go, one of my many voices would later talk me out of going back. I keep hearing all the voices of the officers I had talked to online saying, “Get some help. Find some support. Get on some medication.” So there I was drenched from head to toe when I walked into the small middle office building, and immediately the first thing I noticed everywhere there were religious posting from the bible. Every inch of the walls, the front part of a desk, book shelves behind the desk, and any where there was an open space hung something to do with religion. My first thought was to get up and run right back to the car through the pouring rain.
Out stepped an elderly lady, who I later found out was the doctor wife, took my information, and told me the doctor went to get some copies and some coffee. Another bad sign that I should have ran. As I sat down in a waiting chair I could see down the hall way into the doctors office, where there were large bibles placed around the room. But the worst of all, the finally factor that made me decide that no matter what I will not return to see him ever again was the cleanliness of the office. Paper, boxing material, old packages, etc., basic garbage, was sitting around everywhere possible.
After waiting 45 minutes for the doctor to return, because he had got caught in traffic during the rain, he finally showed up and led me to his chamber of horror. I could barely sit down in the chair, because it basically grossed me out. It was dirty, and like I said the room was so overly packed with papers and other debris that you could not see his desk, or anywhere on the floor. Yuck!!!! Yes I have OCD….but you might too after seeing his office.
Still I tried and talked about why I was there, and how I hadn’t been sleeping very well. I didn’t get too far into the details, but enough that he wanted to continue talking to me even after his next patient had arrived. Mostly it was about religion, and I told him if there was a God, God forgot about me a long time ago. He said I should go on to become a minister….inside I wanted to laugh my ass off at such a crazy suggestion, but I just left him believing that it sounded like a great idea. Almost 2 hours later I’m finally leaving with a script for insomnia. The doctor wants me to come back in a few days to see about putting me on more medication, but I won’t be going back. Help will have to come from somewhere else.