I know I'm in this deep hole - and in a lot of ways it feels soooooooo hopeless. At times I think in very suicidal terms. But I don't really want that - I want off the roller coaster, I want some quiet peaceful place to think things through.
I've been trying to achieve ONE small goal for a month - get back on my bike and start training again - and I look at it, and think about it, and say today is the day - and it never happens, then I just feel bad about that.
The bad stuff though - that I can do - overeat, skip the gym, oversleep, slurp down pop, not take prozac - that stuff I can do.
I had a discussion with my T about going back to see the psychiatrist, fessing up to all of my issues and what I'm doing, and getting some help with it. That would be the mature thing to do ....
Except I can't bring myself to do that - because when I see the psychiatrist, it's to whitewash the truth, to paint a rosey scenario, to be, as I put it, the poster boy for Sanity.
The reality is, I definitely have full-blown PTSD, like a pizza with all of the toppings - hypervigilance, flashbacks, avoidance, self-medication (it's been chocolate and ice cream and over-spending the last few days), weird dreams, anxiety and deep depression.
I still wonder about being bipolar-ish ... Because of the depressions and I can be pretty impulsive and love to spend $ - ????
In the real world, I need professional help with this stuff. The problem lies in my paranoid anxieties - if I admit to having serious symptoms my odds of being diagnosed the sanest, most stabile guy on the planet are slim to none - and for 2 1/2 years that has been my quest, because in my paranoid, black and white catastrophizing no gray areas mind, anything less than totally sane means they are going to take away my rights, lock me up in some modern-day Blackwell's Island One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest hellhole and throw away the key, all in the most publicly humiliating way possible.
I know it's not true or real, but the fear feels real.
I've been trying to achieve ONE small goal for a month - get back on my bike and start training again - and I look at it, and think about it, and say today is the day - and it never happens, then I just feel bad about that.
The bad stuff though - that I can do - overeat, skip the gym, oversleep, slurp down pop, not take prozac - that stuff I can do.
I had a discussion with my T about going back to see the psychiatrist, fessing up to all of my issues and what I'm doing, and getting some help with it. That would be the mature thing to do ....
Except I can't bring myself to do that - because when I see the psychiatrist, it's to whitewash the truth, to paint a rosey scenario, to be, as I put it, the poster boy for Sanity.
The reality is, I definitely have full-blown PTSD, like a pizza with all of the toppings - hypervigilance, flashbacks, avoidance, self-medication (it's been chocolate and ice cream and over-spending the last few days), weird dreams, anxiety and deep depression.
I still wonder about being bipolar-ish ... Because of the depressions and I can be pretty impulsive and love to spend $ - ????
In the real world, I need professional help with this stuff. The problem lies in my paranoid anxieties - if I admit to having serious symptoms my odds of being diagnosed the sanest, most stabile guy on the planet are slim to none - and for 2 1/2 years that has been my quest, because in my paranoid, black and white catastrophizing no gray areas mind, anything less than totally sane means they are going to take away my rights, lock me up in some modern-day Blackwell's Island One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest hellhole and throw away the key, all in the most publicly humiliating way possible.
I know it's not true or real, but the fear feels real.
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