Today is NOT a good day to have the rug pulled from under you. By that I mean, today is not a good day to have your mental health appointment cancelled at the last minute.
This is the MH appointment that I have pinned all my hopes on ALL weekend; all the time I’ve been feeling increasingly and stupidly hopeless.
The clocks on the hands have moved to now: the time I was meant to be driving to my CPN appointment; but instead of that, I’m here, at home, alone, and painfully aware of my own inner clock ticking…the clock of inward twisting desperation. The TICK TOCKS get louder, as I become more and more aware of just how much I am struggling. I’m wrestling with myself. The psychological strait jacket isn’t budging. I needed to talk today. I really fucking needed it. Fuck.
But that respite has been snatched away and I’m alone.
My other half isn’t here either. He’s away….AGAIN. There is no one to tell of my plight. I’ve emailed one and left a message for another. I chirped out my immediate panic in a tweet. One crying face emoji reaction came back on Facebook.
They understand. They know. They get it. They have been virtually by my side all weekend as I have cried and curled up under the duvet and expressed and splurged and uttered that sentence we all know is universally difficult to say…..
“I need help”
I don’t just want, I NEED help, and that is the truth.
I don’t want help for fun. I NEED help, for survival.
I don’t want attention to bolster my ego. I NEED attention, because I feel like I’m dying inside- and no one should have to die alone.
I don’t want your time because I want to indulge in how “special” I think I am. Hell no. I NEED your time like I need air. I need to be able to tell you how low I’ve got, and how tired I am, and how I have no idea how I’m going to heal and improve.
I needed her and I can’t have her, despite my need, and that makes me panic and splutter.
Not only does this last minute cancellation hurt, it scares the shit out of me. People who don’t live my life will find it mind boggling to try and put themselves in my place I’d suspect. But I am telling you- people in the mental health system are only in it in the first place because we have a psychological NEED for it, not a want, a NEED. I cannot emphasise strongly enough how much we need and depend on these regular appointments, particularly when you’ve been in the system for a long time, because we NEED to come up for air regularly and breathe some breaths to fill our lungs up to capacity before we’re forced to get back to our underwater
swimming drowning again.
I canNOT swim underwater. I canNOT breath underwater. Inbetween mental health appointments I am hardly thriving- no, I am barely surviving.
Imagine living your life gasping for air like Ian in that ‘I’m a celeb’ bushtucker trial- the one where he panicked and said he couldn’t breathe….except I can’t shout I’M A CELEBRITY GET ME OUT OF HERE! There is no medic (Bob) waiting at the bushtucker trial clearing with the oxygen mask ready, waiting for your pulse to eventually subside and calm to once again resume.
I have the Samaritans. I have the CMHT office phone number (they won’t ring back so what’s the point). I have friends, sure, but they are busy and they have already done so much to get me through Friday to now. This is the time I need the professionals and the oxygen mask to restore me back to emotional homeostasis. But it’s just me alone.
Self-soothing even more than I’ve already done for three shitty days? Are you sure I can do that??? Am I sure I can do that?
No, I’m not.
I’m NOT sure.
I am panicking, lost, floundering, gasping. I only had enough oxygen left in the tank to last me till this morning. So I am anticipating the drown. The drowning sensation is horrible to anticipate. I’m already feeling it, to a degree, but I know it will get worse.
I have nothing booked in for later in the week either. Last week’s therapy was EXCRUCIATINGLY BAD, so I failed to book in another.
I’m uncontained and about to stop breathing and no one knows.
What the actual F**K am I supposed to do?
I am about to drown but I somehow need to learn to breathe underwater, because underwater is where I am staying for the foreseeable future,
I’m depressed, clinically so. What do I do??? What do I DO?
I’m dying (it feels like) and about to drown completely. My energy levels and ability to put up a fight are pitiful. My mood is the very darkest maritime themed navy blue. My body is frozen and still, conserving my energy for my (inevitable?) eventual demise. There is a hope in my heart that I can learn to breathe underwater, but quite how long it will take me to figure this process out I’m not sure of.
I am crying. I am lonely. I am empty. I am floating passively in the inky blue ice cold water, and somehow I need to learn how to open my eyes, look around me for solutions, and start producing my own oxygen.
I need to start breathing independently, instead of drowning alone……underwater.