I'm being polite. Please. PLEASE don't be mean to me. I want to explain things better.
I have a mental exam on October 2. This was scheduled after a medical exam I had through the social security office because I applied for disability. I have Crohn's Disease and Agammaglobulinemia, which is an immune deficiency. So since I have a weak immune system to begin with, and I take immunosuppresants for my Crohn's Disease, I have very little ability to fight off any kind of infection. I'm suppose to wear a mask and gloves if I go into public. Which I don't do, because I can't afford it. I have no insurance, and no income.
The doctor who performed my medical exam saw cuts and asked if they were self inflicted. My mother quickly answered, "Yes..." And he asked if I was still doing it. I told him I wasn't, and mom told him I do. He began talking about
Borderline Personality Disorder, saying that people with it sometimes cut themselves as sort of a physical manifestation of their emotional pain. I could relate.
So we leave, and mom, who is bi-polar, starts telling me about
how it's NOT borderline personality disorder, it's bipolar, and insists that she knows better than anyone because she's had it for so long. She tries to make her point, saying that borderline people don't feel emotion, and that I do, because she sees it. So I argue with her, because I've read quite a few things on borderline, and as far as I can tell, they certainly DO feel emotion. 20 minutes into the argument, now irate, she says, "The fact that you're so stuck on thinking you have borderline personality disorder, tells me that you're bipolar. Don't argue with me." She goes on to say, "Besides, you won't get disability for Borderline Personality Disorder, anyway. If I were you I'd
want people to think I was bipolar." So I sat quietly, thinking. I thought about
all the counselors I'd seen before, with mom pushing her opinions onto them about
my health, exaggerating my situation as she saw fit. I thought about
all the medication I'd been on, and how it made me feel like I was 2 seconds away from having a panic attack or meltdown at any given time.
I got depressed just thinking about
it... about
being labeled crazy. Crazy like her, even. I don't want to be. Call it denial, if you want, but I don't think I am. And no, I don't believe in medications. But I DO believe in support. And I'd much rather get that support from people on MY side of the fence, than the doctors, with their crazy-labeling. Besides, my day is coming.... October 2nd....
{I've edited your post to bring it in line with rule 1. Please limit discussion of cutting -- it is very triggering. Thanks, serafena}
Post Edited By Moderator (serafena) : 9/9/2009 9:44:03 PM (GMT-6)