I’m not just unhappy now: I’m very unhappy. I came out of the CAMHS building maybe two minutes ago and now I’m at a public computer and I am not happy.
OK, Suzy. Calm down. Start at the beginning.
So first things first. The thought of seeing someone related to the mental health services again, after so long, was enough to freeze my vocal cords into chunks of useless muscle. On the way I hardly spoke and my father had to give the secretary my name because I couldn’t talk. Then when the psychiatrist turned up, she not only asked my father to come on through to the therapy room with us (bad enough already) but, when we were in there, asked him if there was anything he’d noticed lately that she ought to know about – there wasn’t – and then asked me the same thing! In front of him! When she knows full well (or ought to, if she’s read my file any time in the last two months) that my parents are not to be told about any of this under any circumstances! At all! I stared at her with big wide unblinking eyes and hoped she’d get the message. She didn’t. She carried on asking me if anything had happened ‘like last year, when scary things you didn’t understand were happening’. I swear to God she said that. I couldn’t believe it. I let my hair fall so my father couldn’t see and made really blatant and meaningful eye movements (one of my many skills) at her – and finally she asked if I wanted to talk on my own. To which I replied yes.
Now, she’s with CAMHS. Today was the first time I’d seen her since my initial referral – I’ve been dealing with the guys from the Early Intervention team since then. It turns out she didn’t know she had an appointment with me today, so she didn’t have my file, and all she could do was tell me that my EEG scan shows I have a normal kind of brain.
“Anything you wanted to say now your dad’s not here?”
And because I’m just always so lucid and intelligible I started saying “Yes, I frequently feel unreal”and at some point during that my mouth started feeling loose so I had to carry on talking without control of my lips, which is actually a lot more difficult and sounds a lot weirder than you’d think. I got mad at myself for not talking properly and started abusing the poor old left forearm (which is stinging like hell right now), finally explained what I said in this post to her about feeling unreal and living in a world of ghosts and pretend, started crying, shredded several tissues in irritation, got spasms in my leg because I was hyper-nervous, and generally made myself look a right idiot.
“Yes… you have exams at the moment, don’t you? That must be putting you under quite a bit of stress…?”
I tried to explain that feeling so cut off from life means I don’t care about exams: I don’t care about them because I don’t really feel they’re happening to me. It’s someone else who’s gonna have to deal with them. There’s a line at the end of some Chili Peppers song, ‘This life is more than just a read-through’ – well, no, it’s not, this feels like it’s my read-through. I tried to explain this. I tried to explain how what I see out car windows seems like it’s just painted on canvas, and if I touch it it’ll give way under my hand and I’ll see the real world. I tried to make her understand me.
“Yes, quite a lot of people feel like this during exam period.”
I started crying again because I’m an emotionally labile little shit who’s such a stereotype I’m embarassed to cry because it reminds me of what a cliche I am. I tried to explain that right now my self-esteem is crawling so low on the ground that it has to stand on tiptoes and crane its head back just to see over the edge of the kerb. I told her all about this and this and yes, I cried some more, and she said that:
“Mm, during exams a lot of people find themselves under pressure. I see you’re under a lot of pressure. Lots of people change: when they’re at work and at home, for instance, they act differently. Lots of teenagers have mood swings. Yes, I have lots of parents in here because their children are having mood swings.”
I realise that I’m under pressure due to exams (I’m sorry, do I look like I’m four?). I realise that people act differently round different people (but I don’t even exist enough to act different, and I cried a bit more there, just for good measure). And, oh God, how stupid does she think I am - I know that teenagers have mood swings! I know all this! And OK, thank you for reminding me, just keep it in perspective, but now I feel so awful I think I’m going to fall into two. If it’s all the fault of GCSEs and everybody else goes through this then I’m such a useless hypochondriac timewaster I don’t deserve her attention - any attention – what gives me the right to pretend like I’m someone important, some big shot with a blog, ooh, catch her, pretentious little twat -
And if that’s true, then I feel empty inside. I’ve wasted my time, your time, her time, the time and money of the NHS. Everyone in my class is doing exams and everyone in my class is a teenager. Why am I the only one who feels the need to go seek help over nothing?
And if it’s true, which is how I feel now, because she wouldn’t listen to what I was trying to say (why should she? I don’t deserve her listening to me, oh God, I feel so bad), then I still feel awful. How I feel, my moods and my disconnection to reality and other people, the fact that there doesn’t seem to be anything inside me – it doesn’t matter. It’s not important. I don’t matter.
I’ll probably delete this post, or at least edit it, but I needed this out of my system. I feel like crap. Why did I ever think speaking to a psychiatrist could ever possibly help?
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tagged: camhs, crying, eeg scan, exams, gcse, ghosts, health, mental health, mood swings, mute, pressure, psychiatrist, psychosis, red hot chili peppers, self esteem, self harm, teenager, unhappy | 6 Comments »
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