True Confessions: I Hate Therapy

I found myself feeling not like myself. I was erratic, impulsive, simply out of order and didn't know why. I couldn't contain the overflow of emotions that seem to hit me unexpectedly. Or perhaps they were always there, slowly seeping through and it finally caught up with me. I started unraveling online. I was not okay. 

I tried to make a last minute appointment with my therapist but he was booked solid. However, my mind couldn't comprehend that so I went there anyway, twice in the same day. I was only spared 10mins of his time. It was almost a waste of time until he told me: "You're probably in a manic episode." Oh. That was also followed by: "You have bipolar disorder. You need to see me at least 4 times a year." Okay well... whatever. I should've just stayed home. 

When he mentioned me being in a manic episode, I had to really think about it. It's a been a while since I've been in a hypomanic episode and because they don't happen as often, I tend to forget about that part of my illness. I'm so used to being in a depressive episode at any given point that hypomanic episodes tend to sneak up on me. I started putting two and two together: my irritability, the sudden quitting of my job without really thinking, nonstop racing thoughts and ideas, etc. But I wouldn't have even realized I was in that type of episode if it wasn't for those ten minutes with my therapist. 

Though needed, however, I'm still uncomfortable with therapy... 

I finally make an appointment with my psychiatrist when I can actual afford to go. A few days before, I consider canceling and just rescheduling. The only thing that stops me is the fact that I need a refill on my medication. I also needed to see if he can give me a prescription for some sleep aids because what is sleep? 

I've been here before yet I'm still nervous. I'm on time, early in fact. But once it's going 15mins past my appointment time, I get antsy. I hate when I'm on time and I'm stuck waiting. I was about to take this as a sign. A sign that I didn't really need see my therapist today. Maybe next week I will. Or the week after. But definitely not today. Soon as I was about to go tell the receptionist (who I don't like btw), I'm out this bitch, out comes my doctor who explains he's tied up with a patient so give him 5 more minutes. Ugh. Fine. 

True to his word, it literally took all of but five more minutes. But five minutes before that, I wish I just would've walked out. I only go for medication purposes. I don't like therapy because I don't like talking with other people about deep aspects of my life. I don't communicate with the human species well. In therapy, honesty is a requirement and quite frankly, I don't like being honest about my feelings. I don't like being honest about my destructive thoughts. I don't like being honest about the fact that my illness takes a huge toll on me, more than I would like. 

I don't like being honest about anything because that makes it real. 

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