Desperate Measures…

… call for desperate means. OK, admitted: I’m a bit dramatic with this allegory, true. However, it is no exaggeration to say that despair has been a part of this journey more often than not. And again so quite recently, where I seem to recurringly settle in a place of frustration from not really making much progress. Yes, I’ve found, applied and to an extent perfected the tools in place to keep the symptoms in check as best as I can. Yes, I know how to put things in perspective for myself. And yes, sometimes those seem to work well enough to calm the mind. But the emotional tax, the rollercoaster, and more than anything, the solitude and thus isolation coming from this persisting injury have become too much to bear! I can’t continue being the recluse I have become and the latter simply for “social hygiene”, for making it easier for others to put up with me – by removing myself, when I think I’m too much of a burden. (the last thing you want to hear then is that you are being a burden, which happened to me recently… and yet and again, I have to rise above myself and be the bigger man, telling myself that the person in question could not have known about the impact…. I’m digressing, so I’ll drop that thought right there as I have spoken about it here anyway.)

But this avoidant behaviour slowly kills me. It chokes my mind and heart to death. I need to find a way to either overcome or better handle the recurring depression and the latter – and this became crystal clear to me – is there due to unprocessed and suppressed emotional material from the past, that material being: Acute fear of impending death! It seems, I can’t “reconnect” the “chipped off” parts of my emotional bodymind, can’t heal myself into becoming whole again without going to and through that fear again, without feeling its overwhelming weight and without allowing myself to emotionally respond to this and then have someone walk me through the plethora of emotional flooding.

So I need to actually do this. I need to resume the process of comitting myself to inpatient treatment. I have been abhorring this for the longest time as the very situation and idea of a clinical stay has a strong triggering quality to it. But given the catch 22 situation with my health insurance plan, which won’t cover expenses for outpatient psychotherapy, I have no other option left than at least giving it a try. I still shudder at the thought of seeing myself inside such a place, with dozens of similarly affected people, undergoing the same still-in-place routines I have been experiencing for the first time at age 20, when my batallion’s army physician recommended psychotherapy to me, which resulted in a four-month long inpatient stay that yielded zero results! (Other than more emotional injury from finding myself neglected even there…) I guess, you can see, how difficult it is for me to even just think about going the inpatient route… (trigger plus scorched earth from experience… damn…).

Well… there is no other option. I have to find the guts to do it. I actually had a nightmare about this tonight, as I thought of comitting myself last night as well and from seeing me give in to yet another eating binge including some mild alcohol abuse and concluding that I have no control over these binges any longer – none. And they happen as a form of self-medicating the bottomless anxiety that came to govern me day in, day out. Not only doesn’t it work all that well any more, it is of course a physically unhealthy course of action (albeit I try to eat healthy, but some “foods” simply don’t deliver on the quickly sought “high” and “fix”…)

Ok, today I have commenced the formal process of checking myself in. I gather there’ll be a waiting list worth months or more, particularly so as one of the nearby hospitals didn’t even bother to call me back about this again… So that tells you something about the situation as far as availability is concerned.

Sheesh. Society doesn’t seem prepared to deal with “us” efficiently yet. Or maybe just for a few, more prominent, well-defined situations. Hm. Ok, gotta brace myself here. “Fixing” whatever can be fixed about me first. I can always come back and try to fix “the world” at any later time…

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