Day 6 in Nutjob-Land:

As Frasier Crane would say ... oh dear God.

We got even MORE bipolars today. UNMEDICATED bipolars. Or BADLY medicated bipolars. I have never known one, so I had no idea how challenging a diagnosis it is -- both for the person suffering it and the people suffering the person suffering with it. Eek.

It was a fairly calm day. My inpatient pdoc came to see me, looked through my chart and said, "I really wish you were doing better." This, to me, does not sound promising. Although I suppose it's good he picks up on the fact that I feel like crap. My last day is supposed to be Monday, unless I can get my case manager to convince the insurance company I need two weeks of "intensive outpatient" therapy (same program, half days, 3 days a week). It's been pretty much one nightmare after another at this place, but I don't feel ready to leave. Some of my symptoms are actually going DOWN for once -- the self-injury stuff is going down some -- but the general depressive signs are actually going UP.

In goals group we got a little handout explaining depression triggers and coping skills. The categories were designed to spell out "empowers." We read them, and then had to pick one that bothered us the most and explain how we got it and why. I had a very interesting experience. I chose as my trigger "pain as punishment." That's what I do when I cut. When I cut, I'm angry at myself for doing something stupid (in my eyes), or angry for not doing something I think I should have done, or just in general angry. The T asked why that was.

I told them that in my house, screaming at the top of their lungs was standard mode of communication for my parents, but I wasn't allowed to open my mouth or I paid the consequences. Someone asked, "but what about when you were older, maybe high school age?" I said that by the time I was in high school, I was having to get in between my parents because they would hold knives against each other's throats while they screamed at each other (true story).

You should have seen the looks and heard the gasps. It blew me away! I guess I don't see how disordered it must have sounded, because that's just the way it was. I didn't know anything different. Nevertheless, that would pretty much be the reason I have trouble expressing anger. I would say it was nice to have validation, but I guess I never thought of it as "abnormal."

In group therapy, the new chick told about her abuse by her stepfather. It was the same kind of abuse that I got from my mother, so I spent the entire fricking 75 minutes in Deep Trigger-Land. Ugh.

Tomorrow I am doing absolutely nothing, and I am really excited to be away from these people!

Candy