This week has been quite intensive in the old brain department for me. I saw my psychiatrist on Wednesday and my therapist on Thursday.
My psychiatrist is overall happy with my stability. Although it’s obvious my lithium (mood stabiliser) needs to be increased. For the last few weeks she’s been pushing this. Every time I try, I become increasingly nauseous to the point of reaching for anti nausea tablets. I’ve told her every time this occurs that this isn’t usual for me, and that I’m sure it’s because she’s prescribing a slow release brand. For some reason (perhaps the pharmaceutical company gives her a nice holiday to the Seychelles every year) she hasn’t heard me and this routine of increase, sickness, complain has continued. Finally on Wednesday she said, ‘I have an idea, let’s change the lithium to a different brand that’s not slow release.’ I kept my mouth closed and nodded.
I feel that my baseline mood could be better, but then I could do be doing more to help myself. I recognise the rut I’m in, just need to feel my way out of it.
I’ve been considering how to get more out of therapy. One of my issues is that I don’t talk. I write on my blog, but my mouth will never voice my secrets or pain or fears or struggles. I’m the loudest person you could meet, and I would fight hell and high water for the people I care about – but for myself, my own story is one held tightly in silence. In therapy I skirt around the issues, I dodge, I digress, I disassociate. I don’t want to hear the words coming out of my mouth. I guess I don’t want to own it.
So considering this I realise that I MUST find my voice. I said this to my therapist today. Strong, decided. Tall, valiant and proud. Well, she said, let’s go. I was tempted to start talking about the weather – after all it was a sunny morning, but ever so cold out. I didn’t. My eyes bounced off of the walls. I told her I had absolutely no idea where to start. She said that was fine and to start with where I was most comfortable. Again, my eyes flew around the room. She told me I needed to trust myself.
Where could I possibly start? What could I say? She looked at me so patiently. I had a lot in my head.
Then I started talking a little. A few things. Nothing emotive, just details, benign, informative. Then that made me think of something else, and in turn more things trickled. It wasn’t a momentous outpouring of hours of heart rendering tales. It was roughly an hour of disjointed thoughts, memories, situations, conversations, but things that don’t get said out loud.
I didn’t fall on the floor and wail. Or become catatonic (my fears). I just felt overwhelmingly tired and extremely sad. I’m not even entirely sure how I drove the 20 minute ride home. I was pretty spaced.
I don’t know the way to do these things. But something about talking out loud feels right at this stage. The only thing I know for sure is that what I’ve been doing so far hasn’t been working.