psychiatric help
5 cents
I once had an infatuation with an unobtainable person that consumed me
I never lost touch with reality but I spent too much time in not-reality, a kind of alternative reality, virtual reality
I got addicted to the soft floating feeling. it sort of momentarily hijacked my rumination, thoughts and pain of all kinds
it was like a drug, and it was equivalent in terms of brain chemistry
but it also had a hangover effect
I’d cry, feel sick to my stomach, feel stupid and pathetic and sick in the head. like, “what’s wrong with me? this isn’t me, this isn’t normal”
and one day a friend finally said — you need to seek professional help
and it was really embarrassing because it was like “oh, so you see it too”
but I didn’t bother
I knew myself
I’ve been in therapy since I was a kid, on meds of various kinds since I was in elementary school for anxiety and depression. then on antipsychotics as an adult, because it was originally thought my pain was psychosis or psychosomatic
I’ve been in mental hospitals, I’ve been in group homes, I’ve been in day programs and group therapy
I followed the therapy rainbow and the pot of gold at the end was “radical acceptance”
I knew. the problem wasn’t what I knew intellectually
it was emptiness, a lack of an alternative
it was like a survival mechanism, an adaptation, even if it was clearly maladaptive
it was still an adaptation
even animals develop seemingly useless adaptations, even us humans have vestiges of them
Some we don’t know why they exist or their purpose because we weren’t there and we can only guess
I’m not anti therapy or anti psychology or anti psychiatry
but I know it’s limitations
and I knew it was not going to help to pay a doctor or therapist to tell me “this is wrong, this is not normal, this is not ok, you are not ok, you are in danger”
I knew that already
but knowing this was not a solution, it did not make the problem go away, the problem that led to the adaptation
adaptations don’t just happen, they are responses to something in our environment
usually threats
at the time, I did not have any other weapon
I did not have another shield
I had no armor
one of the most tender things in the world to me
is that despite all she went through
Anne Frank wrote in her Diary of a Young Girl about her crush, her warm fuzzy and sometimes confusing feelings
even in those circumstances, she wrote about a boy who gave her butterflies, and even girls who made her feel confused but intrigued
she even kissed a boy while in hiding
she wrote.
I’m better btw
now it’s just warm and not consuming fire
pale fire
like putting on cozy socks when you notice your feet are cold, and taking them off when you don’t need them anymore
homeostasis
and I’m not on meds anymore
my psychiatrist said, “you don’t have any mental pathology. you’re just very angry and in a lot of pain”
