Really?

Are you serious?!

Back story:

I don’t exactly know what happened, but somewhere around July, my ankle popped and suddenly I couldn’t walk right. Since then, I’ve been walking on the outside of my foot with my ankle cocked outward. As you can imagine, this causes pain. Not mild pain, either. The pain radiates about halfway up my shin. If I force myself to walk with my foot flat, my foot cramps up and I look like I’m leaving the bar.

I went to a sports medicine doctor first. He sentenced me to physical therapy. I did that twice a week for four weeks and called it quits because I was just getting worse. 

Then I went to a podiatrist. He gave me insoles that are supposed to force my foot flat. All they did was make the outside of my foot hurt when I walked on it.

Today, I saw an orthopaedic surgeon. He poked, twisted, and flexed, but couldn’t find anything wrong. Here comes the good part... He took a look at my list of medications and asked what they were all for. I simply said that my psych meds were for depression because it’s easier to understand. Then he looks at me and asks, “Do you see a therapist?” I was totally thrown off, but I answered that I do. His response? “Maybe they have some insight.” 

Right... so I can’t walk right or without severe pain because I have a mental illness?! What kind of doctor are you?! Look, I came to you because I have a PHYSICAL problem, not so you could tell me that it’s all in my head because I take psych drugs! You’re not a psychiatrist. You know nothing about that. Stick to what you know and fix my bloody ankle!

This kind of thinking is totally and completely unacceptable and is everything I’m fighting. Unfortunately, however, it is the norm.

So if you’re looking for a surgeon in the SL valley, don’t go to Dr. James Morgan at TOSH.

Nothing

“I feel nothin.”- Capt. Barbosa

Today has been exceptionally difficult. The thing that started it all is that my therapist is a nutter. Not an experimental nutter, oh no. She’s a sit-back-and-see-what-you-figure-out-on-your-own nutter. She does absolutely nothing for me! A couple weeks ago, she suggested I work on radical acceptance, a DBT skill. Catch: she didn’t tell me what that meant, how to do it, or what to start with. I had to buy a DBT skills workbook and read about it. Not to mention that she thinks mindfulness is the cure. My stance on mindfulness is much less enthusiastic, to say the least. I told a friend (who never responded, btw) how I felt about it. I said, “Great. So I’m aware of these emotions. Now what?!” This therapist has a LOT to learn before she can do any good for anyone.

Add on top of that that I had to watch TV. All. Day. Long. My mom was home sick. She can do her word finds while the TV is on. I cannot. She suggested turning it off to read, but with as irritated as I was, reading really wasn’t an option. 

Tonight, even with the crappy mood I was in, I went to a church party. I’m in a new congregation that’s actually really great, but I didn’t feel well, so I left early.

So all in all, today sucked. I told y’all before how I wish I were dead every single day, right? Well today it was the first thought in the morning, and it’ll be the last thought as I go to sleep tonight. I. Hate. My. Life. That’s all there is to it. I got landed with “the worst case of Bipolar” my therapists and med managers have seen, not to mention anxiety so bad that it keeps me from going out (most of the time), let alone hold a job. I just want it to end, and it’s getting to a point where I’ll take matters into my own hands if something tragic doesn’t miraculously happen to me. I want to die. I’m done.